


Off-Ramp

by XScribe



Series: Off The Map [4]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Bi-Gender, Mpreg, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 39,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XScribe/pseuds/XScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Alternate Universe spin on the Fast and the Furious series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Love and thanks to my readers. I hope you like this one. Special thanks to Siberianskys for help and encouragement. Special shout-out and thanks for encouragement to CourtneyMichelle. And again, special-est of thanks to Angel Walker for inspiration and most of all, just for being.

Saturday--August 26

Jamming the roll of bills into his pants’ pocket, Toretto checked that his khaki shirttails covered, then lit out to the dirty office of the garage. His jefe was kicking back at his desk, smoking a cigar, yelling at someone over the phone in Spanish. 

“I’m going downtown a minute,” Dom said in Spanish, not giving a damn if his boss heard him or not. “I’ll be right back.”

“Que dije?” his boss demanded.

“Oyo lo que dije,” Dom threw back over his shoulder on his way out.

Before slamming the driver’s side door of the Chevelle, Toretto dug out his cell phone and hit the call button. He drove out, scrolling for the number to the house in Echo Park. Since it was early enough, he knew someone would be home.

Jesse answered. “Yeah.”

“Jesse. Put Mia on. I got something for her.”

“Mia.” Jesse said off-phone. “It’s for you.”

The phone changed hands. “Yes?” she questioned.

“I’m on my way to Western Union. Don’t sell the garage.”

“What?” She sounded sleepy and puzzled. “What’s this about?”

“Money. For school. Don’t sell the garage.” Single-handedly, he got onto the road into town.

“This is crazy. What am I going to do with the garage? Keep your money; I’m sure you need it.”

“This is Dad’s garage. We can’t just let it go like that.”

“Dom,” she moaned. “We need to be realistic. We either sell the garage, or I give up med school.”

“I am being practical. That’s why I’m sending you this money. Don’t even think about quitting. Take the money. We’ll talk about it some more later.” He snapped the cell closed.

~~~

Monday– August 28

It was Monday when they got to L.A. Brian seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go when he drove into the sprawling metropolis. He didn’t need to stop and ask anyone anything. It didn’t seem he should know it so well, but then Rome remembered his homey had been a veteran of the streets for the few years he’d been gone, as a cop. 

They checked into a moderate-rate hotel in a suburb inside the metropolis called Echo Park. It was way more crowded than Barstow. The hotel wasn’t much, but at least it was close to food, shopping, a laundromat, and just about anything else a person could require. The only amenity it had besides a microwave oven, a refrige, a coffee maker, and a hairdryer, which they sure didn’t need, was a pool. Otherwise, it was barely adequate and cramped. At least at a pool, they could unwind for a day while they figured out their next strategy. After suffering the whole summer in one kind of bad heat and humidity or another, Pearce was surprised by how different the climate was in L.A. It was sunny, but considerably cooler than he’d been expecting. After a swim, he was actually cold, and it had to be around noon.

When he’d met O'Conner as a kid, he could already swim like a dolphin. Turned out he had a pool at his house, which was kind of surprising because not many could afford that kind of thing. Especially because it never appeared as if Brian’s mom had a lot of money, yet she had a decent house and always had nice clothes for herself and her son. Conversely, Rome’s mom barely had enough to buy an above-ground pool when he was around five, which was how he’d first learned to swim, and of course, that only lasted a few summers. How Kitty had had the money to afford an in-ground pool as well as maintain one was something Rome had never quite understood. Then, there were a lot of things about Brian’s mom that Rome had never quite understood. 

Wrapped in a towel, Rome was trying to warm up when O'Conner came out of their room to the pool area. He was in long pants with one of his old shirts over a knit tank. Too bad he was wearing so much, but it was about right for the temperature. He was holding a local newspaper.

Standing next to Rome’s chaise, he offered it up. “We need to look for a place to live. I’ve got a couple of ideas. What do you think we should do?”

“Damn. Don’t we get a few days to kick it?” Unwillingly, Rome took the paper.

“Every day we spend here we’re throwing money away. I’m going to the Police Department soon as I can, but we need an address, you know.” Brian backed to the neighboring lounge.

Scanning the columns of apartments to rent, Pearce looked for the dollar signs. Not quite as bad as Miami, but still more than expected. “I thought you said housin’ was reasonable, this part a LA.”

“It is compared to out in Santa Monica and Bel-Air and shit.”

“It look high to me.”

“That’s ‘cos you’re still thinking in terms of Barstow,” Brian chuckled. “But, you’ve got to admit it beats the shit out of Miami.”

As Rome searched, he began to see what O'Conner meant, in a way. They could get a lot more amenities for considerably less than a small, stripped-down, dog-ass apartment in Miami. “Man, this still gonna eat up that money.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Brian said. “Yeah, I know we’ve got to get into street racing as soon as we can, but in the meantime, I’m thinking about house-sitting. I’ve been looking it up on the internet, on Craig’s List. I found a couple of places not too far away where they’re looking for someone to stay at their house ‘cos they’re gonna be out of town. And they’ll pay.”

“Say that again.” Rome sat up straighter and looked to Brian. 

“That’s right,” Brian reiterated. “This will give us a place to live while we put a couple of cars together and I wait for my requalification. We may not even have to work full-time, depending on how well they pay.”

There had to be something wrong with that plan. “Why’d anybody hia’ us to watch they house? We could just rip ‘em off and hawk all they stuff befo’ they come back. Make money that way an’ don’ gotta wait aroun’ 'til they come back.”

“I already thought that out. I’ll tell them I’m a police officer. Which I will be, so it’s just a matter of timing they don’t gotta know about. That’ll help convince them to let us watch their house. And we won’t rip them off. We’ll do what we’re paid to, just in case we have to do it for someone else before we can start making good enough money to afford our own place and give us a reference. It’ll be better than throwin’ money away here.” Brian gestured at the hotel building.

That was a damn good lie. Especially because it wasn’t a full one. “A’ight.” Rome focused on the paper again. “Guess I oughta start lookin’ fo’ a job, then.”

While they went over the prospects, circling the best ones, the sun dried Rome off. It felt like the temperature had warmed up some. Enough to prompt O'Conner to take off the open shirt he’d thrown on top. Just being out there had convinced Rome that wherever they lived next, it better have a pool. If not the house they sat for, at least the apartment complexes they considered had better have pools. He didn’t give a damn that that added to the cost of rent. And he knew that O'Conner would appreciate it, too, since he loved to swim so much.

He didn’t seem to think it was such a great idea, however. “You’re the only one who’ll be able to use the pool,” he immediately contested. “I won't be able go swimming for who the fuck knows how long--”

“We just go get you some bikinis is all.”

That shut Brian up a moment, at least.

“Like you used ta wea’, back when we was growin’ up.” Rome liked the thought of that. “Damn, I loved seein’ you in them li’l things…”

That shut Brian up even longer. Which was fine by Rome. He leaned back in his chaise, reminiscing. He remembered when O'Conner was a teenager. It was the skimpy bathing suits, short skirts and dresses, and cute, sexy, little underwear that Kitty used to buy for him that had helped to do it for Rome.  
O'Conner had always been a real cute kid—Rome knew that. Not just ordinary cute, but way beyond the average kid cute. Teachers always doted over him, other kids always got crushes on him. Brian never saw it, but Rome did. He’d always been just Rome’s homey, though. He hadn’t thought about Brian that way. Back then, Rome hadn’t understood crushes. 

The fact that Brian was as well-hung as he was had never set well with Rome. He plain old didn’t like it. And as a kid, he’d let that resentment show. He wasn’t about to say it out loud, so he resorted to insults, like all kids did. At first Brian, just laughed, thinking Rome was just messing around, like they often did. In time, though, he figured out Rome was serious. Eventually, Brian got self-conscious about it. As far as Rome was concerned, that was a good thing. Brian took to wearing the style of oversized, untucked shirts, and skirts or dresses that kept him well-hidden; nobody else had to know what all he packed.

When puberty hit, the whole game plan changed. And it turned out that fucking with O'Conner’s head like that ended up backfiring all to hell. Tight as they were, transitioning to sex should have been easy. They liked the same things, did the same things, shared experiences together, good and bad. They couldn’t have been any closer. If only he didn’t have all that. And it all had to be just as pretty as the rest of him. 

The time came that Rome wanted that body so bad, he had to get over it or get nothing. That was around the time Brian had to start wearing swimsuits with tops because of his normal pubescent changes. His mom chose them, like she tried to all his clothes. When it came to bathing suits, she like the feme-styled ones best of all for him ‘cos she said he was too pretty for the masculine styles. It was at that point that Rome just couldn’t wait no more.

With a casual shrug, Brian was agreeable. “Okay. But I’m gonna pick ‘em.”

That interrupted Rome’s reverie, just picturing the unflattering, butch kind of swimwear Brian would chose. “Oh, hell no.”

~~~

Monday–-August 28 - Saturday--September 9 

For the next few days they were almost never at the hotel except to make out and sleep. While Brian checked into the house-sitting jobs and went to the police station to reapply, Rome would go job-hunting. With only a few months of time lost, Brian found he could challenge most of the process. The LAPD already had the documentation about his education, training, and experience. Some of the houses for the sitting jobs were a little too far away, like in Glendale and West Hollywood. Not far, but Brian was determined to stay close to Echo Park, so didn’t follow up on those. For those houses he did go to, in West Hollywood and Hollywood, he had no trouble gaining the trust of the home-owners. Those he told he was a police officer, just moved back into the area, looking for a place to stay until the Department found him a home to relocate to, and they all willingly invited him into their homes.

As for Pearce, he wasn’t having that much trouble getting job offers--just getting offered good pay. He gave his uncle Booker as a reference, and that was all he needed. Both he and Brian had honestly worked for Booker since they were around nine or ten, so that added up to years of experience as a mechanic. Of course, Rome couldn’t mention the years of experience he had working chop shops, so he called it “body work” at his uncle’s, and that was okay, ‘cos he did do body work at Booker’s, and Booker wouldn’t narc on his nephew, no matter that it wasn’t legal. Only trouble was, Rome wasn’t certified, so they weren’t going to pay him what they paid their certified mechanics. That pissed Pearce off, of course, but there was nothing they could do about that for the time being.

By the end of the first real week of September, the owners of a house located only a couple of miles north of Echo Park were ready to leave town for a month on a late summer vacation. By then, after spending much time at the police station, Brian had finished his application/self-assessment, paid for his POST training evaluation, even re-sent for transcripts from the Barstow PD in case there was any discrepancy in finding the old ones filed at the LAPD, and was waiting to undergo his BCWE testing. He knew he’d have no trouble waiving the requal course. And Rome had landed a job that would pay him nearly twenty bucks an hour, with the understanding that he was to start attending courses to get his cert.

The house was located in Los Feliz, a somewhat upscale neighborhood of homes mainly from the 30s and 40s, though there were older and newer ones, with their own separate lots and garages. The house they scored for the month was Spanish-styled, white-washed stucco with a terra cotta tile roof. It was a two-story job with a lot more rooms than they’d need, but that was cool. It came complete with gardeners, a housekeeper who did the vacuuming and cleaning once a week, and a service to tend the private pool in the backyard. All they’d have to do was stay at the house, watch it, and get paid.

There wasn’t any pretending that Brian had no desire to take advantage of the pool. Where his desire felt short was in doing any more clothes shopping.

It was Saturday when they moved into the house, and Rome insisted they go do that shopping the same day. Since he’d have to start work that upcoming Monday, it made sense that he’d want the whole weekend to enjoy the pool. Not since O'Conner was a teenager had he had to wear herm bathing suits. He hadn’t really done the shopping for the negligees and things, and since Rome forbad him to choose his own, he hoped not to have to have a hand in buying any bathing suits at all. But, the truth was, he was beginning to have trouble fitting into almost all his regular clothes and the tight pants Rome had bought him. The only thing of Brian’s old clothes that he could still wear were his elastic-waistband sports pants and his loosest jeans. Looking to buy clothes of any kind reminded him that he was going to have to consider maternity. That had occurred to him when he realized he’d have to buy new clothes for his job--probably even some uniforms--and it disdained the hell out of him.

Naturally, the bathing suits Rome tried to prompt Brian into trying on were all the most colorful, flashiest, and racy ones. Gone were his flat, lean abs. He didn’t even want to try any of Rome’s choices on. A pair of loose shorts he could tie with a drawstring that would cover him up sufficiently would be appropriate. And they made bathing suit tops that covered plenty in front. Unwillingly, Brian finally admitted he felt too pregnant to fit into the non-maternity bottoms.

“This is ridiculous,” he whispered at Rome in the store so everyone wouldn’t overhear. “I’m not wearing those little tiny things. They’re not gonna fit me.”

“What chyou ratha’ wea’?” Rome asked.

Without having to say a word, Brian looked over at the racks of men’s board shorts.

“Hell no,” Rome negated flatly. 

“Yeah, well, fuck you.” Brian headed for the doors in the colorful blue print rayon halter Rome had bought him.

Instantly, Rome was behind him, trying to steer him back into the feminine styles in the shop. “Back when you was growin’ up, you used to look so damn fine in them little bikinis. Don’ you remember?”

“I don’t give a shit what I looked like. Then or now. I’m not dressin’ like that. My mom used to buy me those suits and you know it. Do you think she ever once asked me what I wanted?”

The look on Rome’s face revealed that he’d never considered such a thought. But, just as quickly, that he didn’t really care. “Come on, O'Conna’. It’s what I wanna see you in.”

Not that Brian was giving in, but he hesitated. “What are you gonna buy?”

“I was kind a thinkin’ about som'm like these.” Rome went to the rack of tight, colorful Lycra, short bicycle shorts.

Good choice, Brian thought. Some of those would look really hot on Pearce. “Why can’t I have something more like that? With something like long on top? I’ve got to have something with cups, obviously, but something with a panel in front.”

Taking a few moments to consider, looking back and forth at the different possibilities, Rome made his decision. “No.”

“Then screw it.”

“Cova’ up too much.”

Once more, Brian started for the doors.

Rome quickly followed. “You gonna wear som'm show you off like that, you betta’ show off a whole lot mo’.”

Suddenly, Brian was reminded what the game was about. A game he’d long had to play with Pearce since they’d first discovered sex together. “I don’t know, man,” he mumbled. “I still think it’s ridiculous, the way my belly sticks out. I mean, it’s not even sexy. I don’t know why you want to see that.”

“You’d be surprised how goddamn sexy you is,” Rome assured him.

When they left that shop with enough new bathing suits for both of them, they espied a nearby maternity store. It made Brian pause. He knew it was time to start looking at those kinds of things. Especially after having seen himself trying on those little suits.

“Wanna go in theh’?” Rome asked. “You said yo’self yo’ belly stickin’ out so much if it weren’t for these dresses I bought you,” he indicated Brian’s dress, “you wouldn’t have anything decent to wea’ in public.”

Once again, Brian glanced down himself. The way the halter fit him anymore was further proof of that. Whereas the cups had been loose at first, they weren’t so much anymore. The full skirts might go on fitting him a while, but the cups of the dresses would get tighter. And he wouldn’t be able to go on wearing the same three dresses for the rest of the pregnancy and he knew it. 

They’d had an early breakfast on their way to the house with their few pieces of luggage and belongings in the back of the pickup. It had been no hardship to make their moves from hotel to hotel and now to the house-sitting job, as they both owned so little. So they’d moved in after breakfast, then come shopping. “Don’t you want to go back to the house to go swimming?” Brian tried.

“Yeah, but it’s early.” Rome perpetually had an argument. “We only gonna have to come out again tomorrow if we don’t get you some clothes now.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Brian mumbled. 

Right away, Brian went to the practical Y-styled maternity pants and shirts, while Rome veered off to the X-styles. There was no reason O'Conner couldn’t ignore what his friend was doing; after all, he’d had his way at the swim suit shop. All that was necessary were decent dress clothes for work, if he was able to get back into plain clothes work as soon as he planned. Lightweight sports jackets, dress pants, and dress shirts. And some comfortable casual clothes, including jeans, for off-work.

As long as everything was long enough for his frame, Brian had never had trouble fitting off the rack. Then the next thing he knew, Pearce came up with a bunch of skirts, dresses, and maternity blouses. Casual and dress, but all X-type.

“Neva’ mind that stuff.” He tried to take the hangers Brian was holding away to replace them with what he’d chosen.

“Hey,” Brian complained immediately, resisting. “All I want are some regular clothes for work and to go to the store in. Every place isn’t a freaking fashion show.”

“Wit’ chyo’ looks, you make it a fashion show,” Rome reproached. “He’. Go try these on.”

“You could at least have picked out some pants.” With his free hand, Brian roughly flipped through the garments Rome had brought. “I’d like to wear pants again sometime, you know?”

“Don’ worry; I got som'm in mind fo’ you. I’ll go git ‘em while yo’ tryin’ those on.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying on what I chose, first.” Though Brian was getting tired of stripping down after the swimsuit shop, he’d do it to get the clothes he really needed, and headed for the dressing rooms.

~~~

Several compromises later, they were back at the house in Los Feliz, making use of the best guest room closet and dressers. It was a nice guest room, too, with French doors leading out to the covered terrace overlooking the pool. How O'Conner had lucked into such a fine piece of property was one of those things he specialized at. He was real good at earning people’s trust. But even if they hadn’t had that view, they still had the whole pool to themselves. Old as the property was, the grounds had had time to grow a tall boxwood hedge and trees around the yard, to provide plenty of privacy from the neighbors. The gardener did a commendable job of keeping the plants trim, too, so they’d not have to. 

No, they could spend all day poolside, under the bright California sun. It was a comfortable warmth by the middle of the day, tending toward hot, but without any sticky humidity to spoil it, like they’d been suffering on their drive throughout the south.

To match what he’d bought for Brian, Rome wore the little black, peacock blue, and emerald green Lycra bicycle shorts he’d bought for himself. Then talked Brian into wearing the vivid, ocean-turquoise bikini. It was decorated with sequins that reflected silvery flecks of sunlight. The small triangle cups fit snugly over the rise of his little breasts and if that wasn’t tantalizing enough, the stretch pouch of the panties hardly contained his ample toys. He’d actually shaved the thinning trail of curls from his belly button to his pubes, so he really outdid himself. As a piece de resistance, he wore one of the pairs of gold-hardware, beaded, wedge sandals. And damn. He’d thought he couldn’t do the sexy little suit justice.

He was right about his belly, though. It wasn’t flat any more. Not that Rome wasn’t aware of that. Every time they made love, they showered, or he watched O'Conner dress. And out in the light of day in that little bikini, Rome got a good look at it. Brian sure looked beautiful like that, though. Rome couldn’t wait until it was his baby filling Brian’s belly.

~~~

By the time the sun was setting and the temperature lowered, they were both hungry, but Brian, as always any more, even more so. They put on kimono-styled covers and fixed dinner. Their hosts had left some food in the fridge, even more in the pantry, and plenty of liquor in the bar, so they hadn’t had to run to the store along with the rest of the shopping. They just had to warm and/or prepare it, which Brian was too hungry for and dug into a bag of tortilla chips along with fresh vegetables from the crisper, while he they both figured out the meal.

“I’m thinking,” Brian said over the cutting board, “that since I can only take one of the tests this month, and the next one in October, I should get a job.”

“You got a job,” Rome pointed out. “Watchin’ this house.”

“No, I mean, like you. Do they need another mechanic?”

“I don’ know,” Rome shrugged, stopping by O'Conner for a carrot stick. “They ain’ gonna hia’ you, even if they do.”

“I told you, it’s against the law for them not to hire me ‘cos I’m pregnant.”

“You want me to aks?”

“Yeah. Why not? We could both work together. That’d be perfect, since we’ve only got one vehicle.”

“A’ight. I tell ‘em about how good you is. But I also gotta tell ‘em you in a delicate way.” Poking in the cupboards, Rome searched for their cooking options. “It’ll make me look dumb the minute they see you, if I don’t say it.”

Brian exhaled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Even if it’s against the law for them not to, it’s not against the law for them not to hire me for some other reason. All right, so I get a job doing something else. Somewhere where it’s not detrimental to be expecting. I can take the bus to work 'til we get another car.”

“O’,” Rome said, “we could go to Barstow and Booka’ hia’ you like that,” he snapped his fingers. “No matter that you expectin’.” He found a wok. “Hey, look a this.” He set it on the stove.

“Oh, cool!” Brian enthused. “I want stir-fry.”

“I thought you wanned pasta.” Rome was still perusing the cabinets. “They’s a pasta pot, too.”

“No, it takes too long. I’m already cutting some vegetables up and I’m fucking hungry. Isn’t there some canola oil over in the pantry?” Brian pointed with the knife. “I thought I saw it.”

“I thought I saw shrimp in the freeza’.”

“Perfect! No, I’m serious about the job.” Brian went back to cutting. “We already took this house-sitting gig, so we can’t just up and leave. This place is great, anyways. Would you really wanna leave this for Barstow?” he gestured around the gourmet kitchen.

“No.” Rome tread over to the pantry in his flip-flops to look around for the oil. “You just provin’ my point that you a’eady got dis job. Why you need anotha’?”

“This is for a place to live, not work. And don’t forget--if I don’t find another place by the end of a month, we’re gonna have to start paying rent somewhere. So I’d better have a job by then, not still just chasing around tests all over California.”

“What ‘chyou got skills at?” Rome furthered. “Bein’ a mechanic an’ a cop.”

That seemed to give Brian hope. “Maybe I can work security somewhere.”

“Pregnant?” Rome retorted. “Who gonna hia’ a pregnant security guard? Tha’s jus’ cr-azy.” He returned to the kitchen island where Brian was working and set down the oil. 

Pausing from his chopping a moment, Brian rubbed his belly over the cotton and polyester fabric of the kimono. Inadvertently, that loosened the belt some, and he went back to cutting. “All right, how ‘bout as a clerk at an auto parts store? Or a wrecking yard? They can’t be that particular about who they hire. And at least I have the know-how. I can even do some installations.”

That sounded like a possibility, Rome had to agree. “First you gotta find out, is they hirin’, an’ for temporary.”

“Yeah, I guess I ought a do some more online searching. Say, what else is in the fridge we can put in the stir-fry?”

The thought of seeing O'Conner bending over in front of the refrigerator was a welcome one. “He’.” Rome slid his hand over Brian’s and took over the knife. “I do that while you go look.”

Though Rome busied himself a few moments with the knife, it wasn’t long before he was glancing back at Brian in that little bikini bending down, looking up those deliciously long legs on those heels. Those legs had started to tan nicely from wearing shorts over their cross-country trip. And the glimpse of bare ass beneath the hem of the kimono…damn, O'Conner. 

“Look, here’re some bell peppers,” Brian announced, collecting them from the crisper. “And scallions and water chestnuts.” Then from the refrigerator door. “And here’s the soy sauce, slivered alm--”

Before he could find anything further, Rome had dropped the knife and was behind him, sliding his arms around Brian’s waist, and drawing him against his lap. Very deliberately, Rome loosened the kimono so it fell open, then ran his hands over Brian’s waist and the curve of his ass. Rome sucked in his breath. “Oh, man, you makin’ me hongry jus’ lookin’ at you.”

“You didn’t have enough already in the pool?” Brian teased, allowing the pawing. When he straightened, he pushed back into Rome, rubbing against him.

“I can never get enough a you…” Rome slid one hand up O'Conner’s chest up into his bikini cup where he felt the soft, swollen titty go instantly erect. The other hand coursed down below, to squeeze the pouch and the mildly firm shaft of Brian’s cock responded the same way. 

Amused, Brian chuckled. “Mm. Lemme put this stuff on the counter.”

“You like that?” Rome murmured by his ear.

“Yeah,” Brian nodded subtly. “You’re making me wet again.”

God, that was all Rome needed to hear. He followed Brian closely to the island to let him deposit his stash from the fridge. Then turned him around so they were facing, and crushed him against the island. One thing about O'Conner’s baby blue eyes, when he got excited about something to the point that his pupils dilated, it was easy to see, and that was exactly what happened when he looked Rome up and down. Immediately, Rome leaned in and mouthed that perfect jawline. His own kimono was open, so he pressed his body against Brian’s and let him feel the erection he’d caused in Rome.

“No, wait,” Brian protested lightly, though he was obviously enjoying all the sensations. “I’m really hungry, what with all the swimming and everything…”

Undaunted, Rome continued to press, forcing their hips together while their kissing became passionate. With their mouths occupied, it was impossible for any more words.

Evidently forgetting his hunger in a few minutes, Brian reached down the front of Rome’s bathing suit, freed him, and pulled and stroked.

Then Brian tugged down his bikini bottoms, and his length sprang up. Letting the sequined fabric drop to the floor, he stepped out of them. With a clatter of his sandals he kicked them off, backed up onto the island, long legs apart, and put his heels on the edge of the granite countertop, exposing everything, his firm balls riding up his hard-on, including his slightly gaping, wet pussy.

It was clear what he was really hungry for.

~~~

Monday--September 11

Because they only had the F150 and he knew the area, Brian did most of the driving. He took Rome to work, and could do shopping on his own at least partially dressed like he wanted. To his amazement, the new maternity clothes they’d bought were remarkably comfortable. Even though the pants were mainly relatively tight jeans and leggings, they gave where he needed and he no longer felt the painful pinching of the inseam.

After restocking their important supplies, he returned to the house in Los Feliz to switch on their hosts’ computer and do some job searching instead of using his cell phone to go online. It was much faster, easier, and convenient to have ready access to a computer. It shared a room with a few other things, like an exercise bicycle, a treadmill, and a stereo, indicating that the homeowners apparently didn’t see any reason to dedicate an entire room strictly to office space. The desk it occupied was drawer-less, with little else on it. 

As he looked, he placed phone calls, and began to see that Rome definitely had a point about finding employment. At first, he meant not to mention that he was expecting, but then it occurred to him that he’d just be wasting the time of both parties if he showed up for an interview and made the announcement there. For as soon he divulged his state, he’d get hesitation and sudden excuses, whereas the immediate responses had started out favorably.

After some three hours of searching online, he began to lose hope in any job arena he was actually skilled at. By then he was tired and hungry and once again, he could feel the baby had begun to fuss inside.

Frustrated and irritable himself, Brian slammed a fist on the desk. “Damn!” He got up, rubbing his belly where the baby was kicking, and started for the kitchen. It was one thing to feel hungry without someone else nagging him about it. He was used to being able to eat whenever he felt like it and not someone else’s terms.

In the kitchen, he rooted through the cupboards and refrigerator, uncertain of what he was craving. Why the hell had he let himself get pregnant, anyway? He’d tried to be careful. No, he hadn’t. As he recalled, Dom had offered to pay for him to start some kind of contraception, but like an idiot, Brian had declined, meaning to deal with that responsibility, himself. But had he? No. He’d been too damn busy working to drive all the way to Barstow to see his doctor and get on something. Too busy trying to track all his marks, report for work, and file all his reports on time. All right, so he knew he was too busy to go to his doctor. Which meant he shouldn’t have been having sex or at the very least, he should have been supplying condoms regularly. And with a mark? Was he stupid or insane or both?

Slamming the refrigerator door shut, he kicked the counter. Fuck! The last thing he needed was to be stuck with a kid. If he thought his life was complicated enough already, what the fuck was he going to do with a baby? He just couldn’t handle that in his life at the time.

So where the fuck was the dad? Well, his life couldn’t be too great, either. But he was still running around free, not even aware he’d made a baby, let alone owning up to any responsibility for it.

In the pantry, Brian found the cereal and opened one up to eat out of the box. Oatmeal. He remembered the taste of oatmeal cookie dough from when Rome’s mom, Vernetta, made cookies. With raisins or chocolate chips. Damn, that was what he was wanting. He’d helped her make them lots of times. Maybe Roman was right about going to Barstow. Everything wouldn’t be the bitch that it was. Yeah, but Booker wouldn’t pay them regularly, either. Brian remembered that. So? They wouldn’t have to worry about paying rent and utilities every month, either, until he got his job back at the PD. And there were plenty of other mechanics in Barstow who would hire him at Booker’s word and would have to pay regularly, by law. Being family, Booker didn’t worry about that kind of thing. Hell, both Brian and Rome could be working together.

Since he didn’t really want the cookies, but the dough, he helped himself to the Raisin Bran from the pantry. If he were in Barstow Vernetta would make them for him in a heartbeat. Then he went back to the fridge for the fresh milk he’d just bought.

As he leaned against the cabinet by the fridge he thought of Toretto. Wondered again why he’d been stupid enough to have sex with him and not just once, but over and over again. Why? For a stupid reason, yeah. Because he was so fucking awesome and sexy it drove Brian mad. Those strong, powerful arms, chest, and god, that ass, and those legs…And those big, beautiful, sensitive eyes and mouth and those long eyelashes. Who could turn that down? How could Brian not be insanely aroused? He was stupid, though. ‘Cos what did that get him? Except sick with worry and unable to work. God, he wanted Toretto there. Why? So he could laugh at Brian for being an idiot and not having seen to some form of contraception? Even if it was just to make love to Dom once more. It wouldn’t be stupid any more--he was already pregnant, after all. The worst that could happen already had. Tell him he was gonna be a father. He didn’t have to do a thing but make love to Brian. Just make love. Brian ached so bad to be with him again.

Having lost his appetite, Brian put the milk back in the fridge and left the cereal on the counter. Suddenly, he felt ill. Ill because he wanted Dom again and knew he’d never see him again.

Driven to tears, he went up to the guest bedroom. On the bed, he curled up, cradling his abdomen. “You know what, baby? I wish your daddy was here, too.”

~~~

Fortunately, Rome was okay with bringing dinner on the way back to the house from the garage. Brian hadn’t felt like cooking--hadn’t even felt like eating. He’d cried until he’d fallen asleep, then woken up with the baby kicking the crap out of him. He hadn’t had a chance to do much more than drink some more milk before it was time to go pick Rome up after work. However, Pearce wasn’t stupid. He’d figured out that something was wrong by the time they got back.

“Couldn’t find a job,” Brian finally admitted, picking at his tuna salad at the dining table. “You were right. Soon as I told them I was knocked up, they lost all their enthusiasm. They said I could go ahead and fill out an online application for the time being, but it would probably be a while before they could use me. That meant they were thinking in terms of after I had the baby. I didn’t even tell anybody I was only looking for temporary work 'til I get back in with the PD. That really would have been the kiss of death.”

For a moment, Rome stopped eating, then calmly went back to his grinder. “You don’ gotta work. I tol’ you. Jus’ chill.”

“Fuck that! I’ve always held my own. I earn my own way. They just don’t want to give me a chance.”

“I know that. But you don’ gotta prove it to nobody. And you was gonna leave ‘em anyway, soon as you got back in as a cop. So, you shouldn’t feel that bad about it.”

“This is all wrong!” O'Conner slammed his hand on the dining table. “We’re using the money we’re supposed to buy the garage with. You won’t get a paycheck for two weeks, and I won’t get one at all. Maybe we should go back to Barstow.”

“Lis’sen, baby. They’s a’ways som'm can be done. You a’ways said that. You must a found some jobs, even though yo’ ove’ qualified. Workin’ McDonald’s. Som'm.”

That daunted the tears Brian felt himself edging towards again. He considered. “A couple of things, maybe.”

“Yeah? See? Like what?”

“There are about a million jobs in customer service. Especially bilingual. I don’t need any experience. They said they’d train.”

“Customa’ service?” Rome echoed. “You know why they don’ keh’ if you got no experience; nobody stay at a job whe’ people bitch and moan at you all day.”

“I did that kind a thing all the time as a cop. But, in customer service, you got no muscle. I don’t want to deal with that over shit I got no control over. The only other job possibility where I didn’t need any experience was dog-sitting. They’d train for that, too. I almost called one of those numbers. I’ve taken care of dogs before, so I guess that would be a plus.”

Rome looked dubious. “You wanna do that?”

“No, I said I almost called. Because I have no professional experience, they’d probably start me out cleaning the kennels.”

“Lemme go have a look.”

“What for? Jobs aren’t gonna appear just ‘cos you’re the one doing the looking. When this house-sitting job is up, I say we go to Barstow. Hell, I might not even wait. You can stay here and take care of the house just the same as me. I can drive back to take my next test.”

“I’m gonna go look anyway. Theh’ might be som'm you don’ see the potential in.” Getting up, Rome took his grinder with him to the room down the hall where the computer was. 

Seeing no point in pursuing the issue any further for the evening, Brian stayed in the dining area, toying with his salad. The baby had settled on the drive to and from, and had stopped pestering him. Thirsty, Brian picked up his iced cup of raspberry lemonade and drank it while he considered going upstairs to pack. It would be kind of fucked to leave the house under someone else’s care when he’d promised the homeowners he’d be doing the job. But, he could always come back and meet them there the same day they did, so it would seem like he’d been there all along. They’d met Pearce only briefly and seemed guarded about him. And Brian would have to be coming back to finish taking his requal tests. Anyway, he could start getting regular care with Dr. Adams. He’d be cool enough to wait until Brian’s health insurance kicked in with the PD before expecting payment.

He did hate the idea of leaving Rome, though. They were both adults and they’d survive just fine, but he still hated the idea. Now that he and Pearce were getting along again. Somehow.

When he’d finally finished half his salad, he closed the lid and got up to go put the rest in the refrigerator. Then he dumped the ice cubes out of his cup and refilled it with ice and water also from the refrigerator. After that, he unwillingly started down the hall to go tell Rome his plans, but only got halfway there before Rome called him, instead.

“What about these drivin’ jobs?” Pearce was saying when Brian looked in on him. Rome was in front of the monitor, studying it.

“Yeah, I saw those.” Brian sauntered in with his water and hovered behind the chair at the desk. “They’re for drivers with a CDL.”

“Not this one--”

By then Brian could read the screen. “I checked it out already. Gotta be able to lift up to forty pounds. While I can lift forty pounds all day, easy, they won’t take the chance on hiring me.”

Apparently Rome was more focused on scrolling than eating. He took another bite of his sandwich. “Well, how ‘bout this? Modelin’. ‘No experience necessary.’”

Brian scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous? You mo’ than pretty enough to be a model.”

“No way. I could never do that.”

Hand on the mouse, Rome turned to look Brian up and down. “You look way betta’ than most any model out theh’.”

It was a flattering gesture, but in no way realistic. “Look. Maybe I ought a just go ahead and go out to Barstow. I’ll stay with Vernetta and get myself a job through Booker. Then I’ll--”

“What? I just got myself a job at this garage. Dude seems a’ight. An’ it wasn’t me who s’pposed to be watchin’ this house, i’ss you. What they gonna think? An’ if you take the pickup, how’m I supposed to get to work?”

That was a good question. “I…I guess you’ll have to drive me out, then you can keep the pickup. I’ll have to find a car out in Barstow, but that’s no big deal. I’ll come back at the end of the four weeks to meet them and get paid for the job, and we’ll put that towards the garage, too. By then, we’ll both be making mon--”

“No, Brian, I’m serious about a modelin’ job. You could do it. An’ you don’t gotta go home to Mom. They’s mo’ than a couple a different places lookin’ fo’ models.”

“I don’t know nothing about being a model.” Brian allowed his opposition to show.

“You don’t got to. They say they train.”

In no mood to argue, Brian searched for a quick way to duck the outlandish proposition. “I’m pregnant, anyway.”

“So?” Rome found a paper and pen on the desk to take notes. “Think they don’ need pregnant models? Shu’ they do. Gotta model maternity clothes. You gonna make ‘em look real good.”

“You don’t know what they need models for. Could be swimsuits, for all you know.”

“Yeah, an’ you look damn good in yo’ swimsuits. Them cute little titties get you a job in a hurry. Think you ought a call ‘em up. O’ email ‘em, look.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Too bad we don’t got no pitcha’. They’d hia’ you right now.”

“It’s just as well. I’m gonna go clean up the kitchen, then I’m going upstairs and watch TV.”

“Pack? Oh, hell no.” That got Rome off the computer and on his way to Brian. “Don’t go, baby. Think I wanna stay he’ without you?”

“All right,” Brian sighed. “I’ll give it another day and check the job listings tomorrow. Maybe something reasonable will come up.”

~~~

Tuesday--September 12

Before going to Barstow, anyway, Brian took it upon himself to do something extra for the homeowners before he left. He’d already fixed the side gate and one of the outdoor faucets that he’d found in need of repair, though they’d not said anything about those things. 

After he’d dropped Rome off at work, he took the LA Times into the house that they’d picked up from the front yard, since collecting the daily paper was a designated job of house-sitting. Remembering that he was supposed to continue his job hunt, he took the classified section of the paper out to the garage to look for window-cleaning tools. That was a job that nearly no one wanted to do, that he could manage for the homeowners. 

In the garage, he simultaneously read while he looked for buckets, a ladder, soap, and hopefully a telescoping squeegee. May as well look at the car section from private sellers as he’d be needing one of those, too. They’d be cheaper out in Barstow, though, but no reason not to look.

Leaning on the white Cadillac Escalade in the garage, the paper spread out, he heard a car arrive on the driveway. Outside, he found the housekeeper had shown up in a ’98 Daewoo Nabira station wagon to do her regular chores. It was the first time they’d met. She was expecting him, having been told about the house-sitter and immediately launched into an excited tirade in Spanish, apparently because the homeowners had told her he understood and spoke the language relatively fluently. Or so she assumed. Which was okay, because he had no trouble understanding or communicating with her. When he told her to go on in the house and do her work, as he was planning on washing the windows, she was instantly surprised by his industry. Though he was wearing one of his t-shirts over his shorts, she had apparently figured out on sight, like the homeowners, that he was pregnant. It was unnerving to realize that he looked so obvious.

Nevertheless, he brushed off her concern, left the newspaper on one of the tables by the pool, and set out to do the job. Her concern was touching, but she seemed to think he wanted to discuss his state. He just wanted to keep busy and not think about it.

In a few hours, he was getting so hot and tired he was beginning to think that she may be right. Especially when he felt some quick, but sharp pains deep down in his abdomen and lower back. What the fuck? From the heat, he’d already rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders and carefully came down the ladder where he’d just finished cleaning the master bedroom windows. 

From there, he turned the hose on and took a long drink from it, and hosed off the back of his neck and face. That, at least, felt better. Except one of his topaz earrings got washed out and he instantly dove to find the pieces on the wet pavement. God, he’d die if he ever lost those irreplaceable earrings. 

Deciding he probably needed a break, he went back to the table where he’d left the newspaper, under an umbrella. His skin felt as hot as if he’d sunburned a little, which was entirely possible. He should have thought of that. 

Leaning back in the patio chair, he unfolded the paper again. Once again, he felt another sharp pain in his lower abdomen, but it didn’t last as long. When he rubbed, he felt the baby flutter. Whatever it was, could the baby be feeling it, too?

On his way to look up the car listings, he happened across the real estate section. His heart about stopped when he saw an ad reading: “Established domestic and foreign auto repair shop for sale. Fully equipped. Echo Park. Owner willing to sacrifice, asking $185,000. Ask for Mia.” Attached was the phone number to the Toretto market. 

“Shit!” Jumping out of the chair, Brian raced inside the house for his cell phone.

The possibility of buying DT’s was like nothing he’d ever anticipated. He hadn’t even thought of what had happened to the garage. He figured it had probably gotten shuffled off to some member of the extended family. 

It was pleasantly cool in the house; evidently Sonia, the housekeeper, had turned on the AC. 

He found her at the stove fixing chilaquiles in a frying pan, and his cell where he left it on the island. Interestingly, he instantly recognized the aroma of chilaquiles even though he’d all but forgotten the smell of the dish since his early childhood. 

“Huele muy bien,” he couldn’t help but comment.

“Gracias asi,” she replied. Then assured him she was making food for both of them.

Except for that inviting smell, he was a little too excited to think about lunch. “Muchas gracias,” he thanked her in turn, and stepped out into the family room to make the call.

An unfamiliar feme voice answered his call. “Toretto’s Market.”

“Hi,” Brian managed nervously. “I saw the ad in the paper about the auto repair shop for sale.”

“Yeah. You’ve gotta talk to Mia. She’s not here right now. If you call back--”

“Yeah, I know Mia. Is there a number where I can reach her directly?” Chances were, she’d changed the private phone numbers by then. “I want to make her a serious offer on the garage.”

“I can give her the message.”

Knowing she’d not return the call if he left his name, Brian persisted in desperation. “Look, I’ve got another 15K I’ll give her over what she’s asking, cash.”

The feme hesitated. “She’ll be back here at 2:00. You can call back then.”

Glancing at the wall clock, Brian made several snap decisions all at once. “Tell her she has an interested buyer who’ll be there at 2:00 to talk to her.”

“Sure. Let me give you the address--”

“I don’t need it.”

Snapping his phone shut, he started for the stairs. Then he remembered the ladder and the equipment he’d been using to clean the windows. On his way out the back door again, Sonia called after him about lunch. He told her he’d suddenly remembered he had an appointment and had to take a shower, but would be down to grab lunch in a few minutes. Like everyone else, she fussed after him about feeding his baby.

After putting the ladder and squeegee away and leaving the buckets upside down to drain and dry out, he raced back inside. Upstairs, he took a quick shower, then rushed back to the guest room in a towel to dress. What the fuck was he going to wear? He threw one of the new pairs of maternity jeans on the bed along with his loose, button-up, rayon shirt, rather than one of the blouses he’d just bought. They looked maternity, and he’d rather not advertise his state in front of Mia. The side panels in the waistband eased so comfortably over his slightly protruding belly. Then he stepped into another pair of sneakers. Flipping his damp hair out from under the collar, he found that the buttons on the shirt weren’t as loose as they used to be, but they did close. 

A look in the mirror described a little too much across his chest. He’d have to do something about that. It was just as he was touching up his mascara and smudging on his eye shadow that he was becoming so accustomed to wearing again, that he realized he shouldn’t have put any makeup on. After all, he wanted to make the transaction with Mia as low-key, as possible. Only there was no time to wash it off again. 

On the way past the closet, he snatched his denim sports jacket out and carried it back down to the kitchen to do Sonia the courtesy of sharing the proffered chilaquiles, which he couldn’t wait to taste.

~~~

The whole short distance to the Toretto market, Brian was nervous. He didn’t want to face Mia. Not for shit. He messed with his collar and damp, shaggy curls and pulled his jacket closed a million times. It was too warm for it, being early September, but for nothing did he want her to detect he now had a bust.

The sight of her Acura parked at the curb outside the market made him swallow. He almost changed his mind and drove away. When he got out of the pickup, he glanced down and saw his seemingly tiny, though somehow obvious breasts jutting forth like the prow of a ship under his shirt. It was like whenever he looked down anymore, he was looking at a stranger’s body, with the unfamiliar way his belly and chest stuck out. Even though he’d been through it before, he was very uncomfortable about it. Inside, the baby did what felt like a somersault, nearly making him sick. Damn. That’s your auntie in the store, so chill out. She never needs to know you exist.

Quickly, Brian shoved his sunglasses as far up the bridge of his nose as possible and mussed his curls. She didn’t need to see he was wearing makeup. He probably wouldn’t even look immediately recognizable anymore. He no longer had any trace of beard and his hair was longer.

On sight of her, he recognized her right away, though. She was behind the counter with a new employee, an ordinary-looking X-type. Mia’s long, glossy, dark hair spilled over her thin shoulders. She was as beautiful as ever, though her brow was creased with mild impatience. And there, on the customer-side of the counter, a lanky, very familiar, blond Y-type in a knit cap, perched on one of the stools. Only he was thinner than when Brian had last seen him, and appeared a little gaunt. His big eyes got rounder at the sight of the visitor.

“Brian!” The Y-type jumped off the stool with a radiant smile and rushed Brian. “Oh, fuck!” the other blond enthused, gripping Brian in a rib-crushing embrace. The baby lunged in protest, and Jesse jumped back, staring at Brian’s body in shock.

Instantly, Brian stepped back so the baby’s further movements and presence couldn’t possibly be detected by anyone but himself. “Fuck! Jesse! It’s you! God, you-you’re here!” He felt Jesse’s shoulders and arms, making sure he wasn’t hurting him. “I was so worried about you! I had no idea how you were and couldn’t find anything out. Everything was so fucked up. I hated leaving you like that.”

“No, man--” Jesse started to argue.

“You!” Mia raged, interrupting them. “You’re the one who called about the ad? It was you?”

The new clerk fretted instantly. “Man, I didn’t know you had a history with the guy. I’m sorry, Mia.”

Gaze glued on Brian, Mia stormed out around the counter in such a hurry her hair practically streamed back. Her eyes were searing. “Get lost, O'Conner,” she spit. “You’ve played out your welcome around here for the rest of your life. That ad isn’t supposed to be running anymore anyway, but if it were, I’d sooner burn it down than sell it to you!”

“Look, Mia,” Brian managed. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he pushed the edges of his jacket completely closed now that she was close. He glanced between her and Jesse who still looked exuberant and ready to burst with excitement. “I know you’re pissed and I don’t expect anything, I swear, but to buy the garage. What do you mean the ad’s not supposed to be running anymore?”

“Just get out,” she disdained. “ Get out before I call the police.”

That was amusing. Brian lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Mia!” Jesse said with some urgency.

“You’re a lying, cheating dickwad,” she continued to rail, “who’s done nothing but fuck over me and my family. Last I heard, your own pig friends were after your ass. Don’t think for one second I wouldn’t turn you in. Mal,” she called to the clerk. “Dial 911.”

“Mia!” Jesse reiterated with more urgency. “It’s freakin’ Brian! Don’t you see that? Don’t you get it? He’s the only one who can get Dom home.”

Still concerned about Jesse’s health, Brian addressed him. “How are you, Jesse? How was it?”

Ignoring Brian, Mia turned solely to Jesse. “You’re a fool, Jesse. I’ve told you before. This creep doesn’t give a damn about Dom or you or anybody but himself.”

“Man,” Jesse groaned, “I’m so sick of you saying that! If that were true, would he have saved Vince’s life? Or kept Dom out of jail? Don’t you get that if it had been some other cop, our lives would all be a lot more fucked up right now? Don’t you get that, man?”

“Mia,” Brian pressed in his defense, “I did come here to buy the garage. If you’re still interested in selling, I’m willing to give you another 15 grand over what you were asking.”

Her gaze flitted over Brian. She paused and in that pause, her eyes widened. “What the hell…?” Grabbing his lapels, she yanked them open. 

The moment she let go, he folded his arms, covering his chest again, despite how good the cool air felt no longer blocked by the denim. 

“You…You’re...” she stuttered.

“It’s got nothing to do with nothing. I came here for the garage. If you don’t want to sell it to me, I’ll just have to find one somewhere else. I’d really like to buy yours, but that’s up to you.”

Jesse let on what he’d figured out already. “This is so dope! This is the greatest, most amazing thing, ever! How far along are you?”

Uncomfortably, Brian shifted. The baby hadn’t quite stilled after taking that unexpected nudge. “I’m really not here about--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jesse enthused, “I wanna see. Come on. Let’s have a look.” He tugged Brian’s arms apart.

The last thing Brian wanted to do was put Jesse off. Tightening his jaw, he remained silent and let Jesse do all the gawping he wanted.

Mia suddenly burst out, “What do you care who or what he’s been fucking? How can you be so stupid?” Then she went on to Brian, “Just get out. I meant it when I said I’d call the cops.” Swiftly, she hauled off and fled back to the counter.

Releasing Brian’s blazer, Jesse yelled after her. “Mia! Mia, wait! ‘Scuse me.” He raced after her.

The jacket felt oppressively hot as it fell back in place, kicking Brian’s queasiness back up a notch. In their absence, he went to the open doorway and looked out, leaning on the wall, breathing deeply to control his nausea. Of course he’d left his medication in his purse under the seat in the pickup he’d left parked across the street. That was where he used to park. If he shut his eyes, he could still see that 1999, red SVT Racer’s Edge pickup, as opposed to the older, 1993 iris-colored Ford with the camper shell.

~~~

Just as Mia was fumbling under the counter for her purse, Jesse reached her. Gently, but using a little force, he took her by the arm into the office at the back of the market.

“Leave me alone,” she mumbled, keeping her head down. “I’m going home. Get your idol to drive you home.”

Inside the office, Jesse released her, keeping his back to the doorway to block their voices. Though he sort of understood Mia’s anger, this was too good a thing to let anything overshadow it. Since first laying eyes on O'Conner, Jesse had admired the hell out of him, even though he turned out to be a cop. For so many reasons. Just the fact that he was a cop who hadn’t turned any of the team in was reason enough, let alone everything else. And he looked amazing. His tan had deepened, his curls had grown out fuller and become an even more dazzling shade of sparkling, golden blond. He was even still wearing the topaz earrings Dom had given him. All of which made him more beautiful than ever. Plus there was a new radiance about him. As if Brian O'Conner hadn’t been radiant enough. “Don’t you get it, man?” He said quietly, unable to keep from breaking into a delighted smile. “It’s Dom’s.”

Bitterly, she muttered, “How the fuck do you know that?”

“It’s been about that long since all that shit came down.”

She blinked in shock at Jesse. Then past him, out into the market through the mesh wire. Her eyes were wet, her voice tight. “So.” She seemed to be steeling herself. “I suppose he thinks it’s time to come and hit me up. Hit me up to help support his and Dom’s illegitimate brat. Why should I?” 

Jesse was astonished. “Man, didn’t you hear him? He just said he’s here to give you money. He’s not asking for anything.”

“Bullshit!” she raged. “Where the fuck would he get enough money to buy the garage? He’s a goddamn con man and always was.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Jesse snatched off his knit cap in frustration and mussed his hair. The movement, however, hurt his healing wounds and he winced. “You sound crazy!”

“You’re the one who sounds crazy! Believing that creep.”

Gathering his wits, Jesse volleyed back at her. “Does somebody who gives up his own career for everybody on the team sound like a con man? Someone who saved another man’s life at the risk of getting killed sound like a con man? Even if he doesn’t have the money to buy the garage--though I’m sure he wouldn’t lie about it--maybe he just came back to let you know you’re gonna have a niece or nephew. Isn’t that worth knowing? We just had what little friends and family we had torn apart, so we really need this. I, for one, am fucking stoked to find out I’m practically gonna be an uncle. Not to mention that if we’re lucky--if we’re very, very lucky--maybe Brian can help us find a way to get Dominic back home.”

Placing a hand over her eyes, she tried to hide it, but tears ran down her face, anyway. Turning her back to him, she placed her purse down on the desk. Then she struggled to unzip it.

“Why are you crying?” Jesse stepped behind her, barely touching her back. “You should be happy, man. Happy to have this niece or nephew and happy to see Brian again. I know Dom don’t want you to sell the garage right now, but maybe he’ll change his mind ‘cos selling it to Brian would be the best thing in the world for all of us. It’ll keep him and the baby around.”

“I think I’m crying,” she sniffed, “’cos I’m an idiot.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. You-you go talk to him. Find out if he’s serious about buying the garage.” She wiped at her face with the tissues. “If he is, I’d sell it to him and only him, I don’t care what Dom says. Surely, he’d agree to sell it to the mother of his baby. Probably just give it to him, knowing Dom. Maybe O'Conner will want to co-own it with me--whatever. Then between you and him, you guys could start running the place again and make some money, I don’t know--I’m just rambling.” She waved her hand toward the office door. “Go talk to him. I don’t want him to see me like this.” She wiped some more. Then she pushed away to go duck into the restroom. 

Ambling out into the market, Jesse saw no one but Mallory out there, behind the counter looking out into the street. He looked to her and she gestured at the doorway.

“He went out there,” she volunteered. Then whispered, “What’s his name? He’s like, gorgeous!”

Jesse veered closer. “I think so, too. His name’s Brian.”

In front of the market, Jesse found Brian leaning against the doorframe. Still behind his dark shades, he had an arm crossed over his chest supporting the other elbow, his hand covering the lower half of his face.

“I know you’re serious about the garage, aren’t you?” Jesse questioned. “I wouldn’t even bother to ask, but Mia insisted, you know?”

“Of course I am.” He seemed surprised. “I didn’t even know it was up for sale, but soon as I found the ad in the paper, I realized it was perfect. I know the place, I know the area, and I know the owners.”

“Cool. Well, I’m convinced. I’ll go tell Mia, then we can go have a look at it again, if you want. Then you can drive me back to the house and talk about how you’re gonna pay and all that. She’ll be home by then.”

“She’s not coming with us?”

“Uh, well, she’s kind of upset right now. But.” He motioned. “She said if you were serious, she’d totally sell it to you, even though Dom doesn’t want her to sell it at all, the last time we talked to him.”

“Was that what she meant when she said the ad wasn’t supposed to be running?”

“Um, well, with Dom it’s a sentimental thing, you know? For her, it’s like she needs the money for school and she can’t afford to be sentimental about it. Especially when she’s still got to pay property taxes and insurance and all that on it. It belonged to their folks, and he’s just getting cold feet about selling it, is all. He’ll change his mind when he finds out she’s selling it to you. Especially when he finds out you’re having his baby.” A little nervously, Jesse put a hand out in front of Brian’s belly. “Can I--can I feel?”

Brian blushed slightly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Too excited to keep still, Jesse thrust his hand between Brian’s jacket edges and pressed. He felt hard lean muscle over the slight baby bump. Damn, Brian’s abs felt great and sexy, no matter that he was expecting. “Wow, that is so cool! Have you felt him move yet?”

“Y-yeah. For a while now.”

“That your truck?” Jesse nodded toward the iris F150 across the street. “Where you used to park?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Fucking pretty color. Let’s go see the garage again. Bet it’ll bring back some memories. Lemme run back in and tell Mia and get the key.”

~~~

The interior of the cab was in good shape for a seven-year-old pickup, Jesse thought, as he slid into the passenger side. It was both cool and weird for Brian to be back. Jesse almost felt kind of afraid to let him out of his sight. Like he would turn out to be a mirage. He sure was good-looking enough to be a mirage. 

Just as Jesse was about to start getting caught up, and hopefully get another chance to feel Brian up, he was interrupted by Brian’s slightly tense voice.

“What you said--you talked to Dom? When was that?”

“Huh?” Jesse was caught completely off-guard. “Oh, I don’t know. A couple a weeks ago.”

“A couple…?” Brian fell silent.

“Yeah. Whenever. He doesn’t call all that much, obviously, but every now and--”

“Do you know where he is?” Brian continued to sound anxious. 

“No. No way. He can’t tell us that. Traveling, I imagine.”

“You-you’re going to tell him about me?” Brian checked his rearview mirror.

“What? Are you kidding? Of course! This isn’t the kind of thing you keep from a father-to-be.”

“What makes you so sure he wants to know?”

For a moment, Jesse regarded his driver, puzzled. “You don’t want him to know?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean, he probably wouldn’t want to know.”

“How can you say that?”

“Look, he’s in exile. He’s got much more important things to worry about. He can’t be bothered with unimportant baggage like--”

“Brian! Now you sound crazy!” Jesse laughed, in disbelief. “How can you think that? If you think Dom wouldn’t want to know about this, you don’t know him at all.”

“What?” Brian glanced to Jesse. “I don’t know, man. I just think it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to tell him.”

Jesse tugged on his cap anxiously. “Man, he’d fucking kill us if we didn’t tell him!”

Once more, Brian glanced to Jesse, then realizing the cars in front of him had come to a stop, slammed on the brakes. When the truck came to a halt, he was gripping the wheel, breathing hard.

Alarming, Jesse looked over Brian. “Hey, something wrong? You’re okay, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m fine,” he answered a little too quickly. “I just don’t think you should tell him.” He cut around the cars, so not to get stuck at the light, though it was a tight squeeze in the big F150. Still, Brian was excellent behind the wheel, as always.

That wasn’t a good enough answer. “I don’t get it. Why not? Wouldn’t you want to know if you were gonna be a dad?”

“This is a whole different situation. What I’d want to know and what he’d want to know…Well, I think he’d be pissed.”

Interesting that Brian had come to that conclusion. I wasn’t a bad one; it even made sense. Dominic could have a hell of a temper. That meant he did know Dom. Pretty good. But, not quite. Then, how could he know all the little nuances to Toretto’s personality? He’d only known him a couple of months. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

By then, they’d reached the garage. Brian turned and drove down the driveway off the street. “Well, I do, and I don’t want to piss him off about this. He’s already pissed off at me big time and I don’t want to give him more reason to hate me.”

It probably wasn’t the greatest time to pursue the conversation, but pursue they would. Brian had to be set straight about his baby’s daddy, but it could wait. After all, he was going to be around all the time, once he bought the garage. 

Jesse climbed out of the truck, and dug deep into his cargo pocket for the keys to the bolts and padlocks on the garage. When Brian joined him after having locked the pickup, Jesse noted that not only was his usual swagger a little exaggerated, but he was now carrying a brown suede, messenger bag-style purse over his shoulder. He still seemed tense. Being as Jesse had never seen Brian with a purse, he couldn’t help but stare for a half a moment.

“Chill, man,” Jesse instructed. “It’ll be a while before Dom calls again, and you can think about it in the meantime. Maybe change your mind. In any case, we won't tell him until it’s cool by you, you know? I mean, this is your baby--not for us to make any decisions on.”

Lowering his head, Brian said nothing. He just swayed slightly, waiting for the locks to come off.

With one side of the doors unlocked, Jesse entered, subtly watching Brian’s familiar swagger. He knew it was the kind of a walk associated with well-hung guys. Only now it was even more so. Jesse sauntered toward the center of the empty bays. The smell of oil, grease, hydraulic fluid, upholstery, exhaust, gasoline, and NOS hung in the air. “Here it is, pretty much the way it always was.” Jesse stopped and looked up at the ceiling. “Nothing’s really been touched.”

“Nothing?” Brian asked, going to a bank of roll-away tool cabinets to look them over.

“Just about,” Jesse answered. He followed Brian and pulled open a drawer to demonstrate the array of equipment inside. “See? You’d be getting all this, too.”

“Wow,” Brian said, impressed.

“Well, you’d be getting everything except the inventory.” Jesse looked up the metal stairs towards the aisles of empty racks and shelves. “They took all that. Mia told me they said it was ‘evidence.’ Came in here and carted it out by the truckload. But they left all the tools.” Consulting his own key ring, Jesse carefully bent down and unlocked one of the lower drawers. “All that’ll be yours.”

Evidently, Brian saw Jesse was having some pain. He came forward and helped. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“I-it’s okay,” Jesse managed, straightening up a little stiffly. 

“Tell me about it. What happened after you-you know? How bad was it?” Holding Jesse’s arm, Brian removed his sunglasses, finally, and looked over Jesse with evident concern.

“Well, I don’t remember too much about it.” Jesse looked to Brian and promptly stumbled. “Whoa! Fuck!” As if Brian wasn’t already attractive enough, he was wearing eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, and a thin layer of foundation. “You’re fucking beautiful! When did you start wearing makeup?”

Brian gave a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know. Just lately again, I guess.”

“Again? You wore it before?” Jesse felt cheated to have only then been witness to such a phenomenon. “Damn! When you buy the place, can I come work for you?”

“Are you kidding?” Brian beamed. “Of course!”

“Oh, man. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes on my work.”

“Well, then maybe I shouldn’t hire you.” Brian was no less embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s probably too soon for you to talk about. It was probably really hard for you in the hospital. You’re okay now, though, aren’t you? I feel really bad that I didn’t get a chance to find out what happened to you. I just had to be out of here so fast, and I couldn’t dare go by the hospital. I knew they’d be looking for me if I did.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just some not-too-cool scars.” Jesse lifted his shirt and tugged down his waistband a little to show the one on the left side of his abdomen. Then he pulled down the collar of his loose, cropped T to show off his shoulder. Because they hadn’t had that long to heal, they were still pink where the skin edges had been closed.

“I don’t know,” Brian commented. “I think they make you look cool in a tough way.”

“Really? You’re not grossed out?” 

“Not at all.” Brian laughed easily. Then he went about checking the equipment--engine hoists, jacks, the lifts, the two air compressors, the battery charger.

“So, where’d you go when you left?” Going to one of the rear car seats that served as a bench, Jesse perched on it to enjoy his view of Brian as he strode around the garage in tight jeans, in his admirable gait. It was almost like he’d been transformed, attire-wise. He never used to dress or look like that. Even the rayon, buttoned shirt was OOC. Furthermore, when he headed a ways up the stairs, the tight jeans displayed a luscious bulge between his legs that Jesse hadn’t noticed so much when they’d first met. He used to wear baggy, slouch jeans that hung on him like ill-fitting gunny sacks. Granted, he used to be thinner, but the difference now was on account of pregnancy changes. Sometimes in those shapeless jeans Jesse caught a glimpse of some semblance of bulge, but it was never very descriptive. Now it was deliciously apparent that the guy was packing.

“I just took off, cross-country. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular--just to get as lost as I could. Ended up in Miami.”

“Miami.” Jesse rested his elbows on his knees. “How cool. What’d you do when you got there?”

“Street-raced, of course. All the time. Made a lot of good money. People in Miami got deep pockets.” Brian stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “On the way there, the cops got a little too close, so I had to ditch my Mitsubishi 3000GT.”

“You had a 3000GT?” Jesse gawped.

“Yeah. That was mine--not the Eclipse. That one the PD equipped. I had to sell it. Bought myself a 1999 Nissan GT-R Skyline. It had a 2.6 liter RB26 twin turbocharger. I moded it with a C-West body kit and spoiler. Man, did that thing drive.” Brian shook his head slightly, as if ruing that he now drove an early 90s Ford pickup.

“A Nissan GT-R Skyline, no shit!” Jesse howled. “I thought those were illegal here. How in hell did you find one a those?”

“I don’t know. It was in the backlot of a crappy used car dealer in Texas. It was like they weren’t even sure what it was worth. I offered them forty-two Gs cash, and they went for it.” He wandered over to Jesse, hitched his pants up over his thighs, and joined him on the car seat.

“So, what happened to the Skyline? Oh no,” Jesse moaned, “don’t tell me you lost it.”

“No, I still got it. It’s sitting in storage back in Miami, waiting for me.”

“Oh, wow! Can you go get it? I’ll go with you, man. I’d kill to go to Miami.”

“Well, I think I want to get settled here, first. I’ve only been in town a couple of weeks. Get the garage up on its feet and running, you know? Get another car for racing and get it fixed up to make some extra money. Then first chance I get, I’ll drive back for the Skyline.”

“So, you’re planning to stay here?”

“Absolutely. Why else would I be buying the garage?” Consulting the shoulder bag, Brian opened the flap and reached inside. “This is how I plan to pay.” He took out a thick bundle of bills.

Jesse’s mouth dropped. “Are you fucking kidding? Is that what you’re carrying around?”

“I meant to give it to Mia as a down payment so she’d know I was serious. I’ve got eighty-K with me. You think that’ll convince her?” He took out a second bundle and showed it off just as casually.

“Whoa! You’ve convinced the shit out of me! That’s almost half what you offered.”

“I’ll bring the rest over to the house tomorrow or whenever she can get the deed and all the paperwork together.”

“Hey, wait a second,” Jesse realized. “How can you open a business? Soon as you file for the business license, the law is gonna come down on you like the wrath of God.”

Brian broke into another smile. “Not a problem. My record’s been cleared. Cops aren’t after me no more. In fact, I’m in the process of requalifying to go back on the Force.”

“What?” Jesse looked down to Brian’s belly again. “Man, you’re just full of surprises. Why in fuck would you want to go back to work as a cop? And how can you go back when you’ve got a bun in the oven? Why would they let you go back to police work in your condition?”

“I’ve already been through all the preliminary steps and they were okay with it. Which is more than I can say about the other places I’ve been trying to apply for work. They need all the people they can get, so they’re not stupid enough to turn down a trained recruit. They’ll just start me out on deskwork until afterwards, you know. Then I can go back out in the field again.”

“But, if you’re going back to work for the police…” Jesse said thoughtfully, “you’re not going to do anything to bring Dom back…You’d have to bust him, if you did.”

Leaning back into the backrest, knees apart, Brian was silent for a few moments. “I gave him his freedom, not as a test or a game…I gave it to him because I meant him to have it. After I get my badge back, if he were to walk in those doors,” he pointed at the bay openings, “there’s no way in hell I’d turn him in.”

“See? I knew you were cool.” Jesse leaned to Brian and crushed him in another embrace. “If you weren’t gonna have Dom’s baby, I’d marry you myself right now.”

After Jesse released him, Brian put an arm around Jesse and hugged him back. “I missed you, too, bro’.” Then he tucked the money back into his messenger bag. “I really did. I was afraid you hadn’t made it. I didn’t know how bad the wounds were. I couldn’t help but think the worst.” Once he’d dropped the flap down over the top of the bag, he wiped briefly at the corners of his lower lids, then cleared his throat. “Think maybe we ought a head over to the house now and talk to Mia?”

“Yeah.” Jesse got up, feeling some discomfort in his abdominal wound, only. “You can tell us both how you managed to get the cops to drop the charges against you.”

“Oh, that.” Brian tried to get up, then paused. It seemed a little awkward to him, which was weird; Jesse remembered him being very agile. “Fuck,” he stated. “I can't…” Immediately, Jesse extended a handed and O'Conner grasped it then boosted himself up adroitly. Once he was up, he tugged briefly at the crotch of his jeans. “I think my belly’s in the way.”

“You mean your baby,” Jesse chided. “Don’t worry--I’ll help you stand up from now 'til after he’s born. So, you started thinking of any names, yet?”

“What?” Brian seemed momentarily confused. “No. Nothing like that.”

~~~

In her room overlooking the street, Mia had been fixing her makeup, trying to cover over the telltale traces that she’d been crying. All she kept thinking of were those days back last spring when she first met Brian. How she practically held her breath waiting for him to come into the market, just to see him. The sweet, shy way he’d acted and then began to flirt with her. He had this incomparably cute way of blinking that was almost a wink that made her heart skip. At the time she knew it was all for her. Just the thought that someone as good-looking as him would actually give her a second look was titillating enough. But, the flirting…Even in class or over her books, all she could do was think of him.

Then the way her brother stepped between them and ruined it all for her. She knew it was Dom’s doing entirely because Brian had shown real interest in her. And that was what Dom always did. With every boyfriend she ever had. Only this time, he went a step further, not just chasing the guy away, but taking him for himself. Even so, no matter how mad she was at her brother for such an act, she still missed him deeply and wanted him to come back home. Brian Arielle O'Conner notwithstanding. 

Of course, she never expected to ever see him again, anyway. Much as that hurt, he was just another heartache she’d have to get over.

Then now this. That crazy Jesse. Holding out for hope. Talking crazy. Somehow thinking O'Conner could or would do anything to bring Dom back. And O'Conner pregnant! This was insane. She caught her breath.

Just then, she heard a vehicle pull up in front. Hurriedly, she flit to the window and looked out through the sheers, so not to be seen. Outside was the iris-colored Ford pickup with its camper shell. Damn. On her way back to her mirrored dresser, she was reminded of the day that seemed so long ago when her brother brought Brian to their house for the first time. She’d looked a mess then and a worse one now.

There was nothing she could do about her swollen eyelids, so she just added more powder, hoping that would suffice. Then she composed herself in front of the mirror, smoothing her knit blouse down. It seemed she hadn’t had enough time to prepare when she heard the front door open. Maybe if she was lucky, Brian had just dropped Jesse off and left, giving her a few days or so to think about selling him the garage.

Unfortunately, she heard two voices downstairs. Damn. She fluffed her hair, throwing some in front again to hide behind because she knew she’d need to. Then she heard Jesse calling her. Taking a deep breath, she started for the door of her room, but then waited. Maybe if she just stayed in her room, they’d leave her alone. She closed the door down.

Instead of responding, she went to the little desk and picked up her course schedule and the documents from UCLA Medical Center to go over again. After all, she’d be starting work at the hospital next week. It was a perfectly good excuse to not to come down.

Throwing the papers on her double bed, she tried to preoccupy herself. It helped get her mind off O'Conner, Dom, and selling their father’s garage.

After some ten or fifteen minutes, she heard footsteps in the hall. Promptly, she raised her knees, and buried her nose in the pages. She’d pretend to be fully engrossed in reading when Jesse looked in.

There was a knock on the door, which she ignored.

“Mia.” It was Brian.

Shit! She started and quickly mussed her hair a little more to cover her face, sitting up, cross-legged, and leaned forward. “What do you want?” she said impatiently.

“Can I come in?”

She sighed. There was no keeping him out now. She’d have to face him in order to get the garage sold, being as Mama had signed it over to Dom and her. And he was nowhere around and wouldn’t sell it, if he were. “All right.”

The door opened with a slight creak. Brian entered, jacket open, which fairly hid his state, carrying a messenger bag, and looked around himself. He’d never been in her room before. Suddenly, she was glad he’d come up, rather than her going downstairs, even if she was upset. And Dom wasn’t there to give her grief about inappropriately inviting a guy into her room.

Patiently, she waited.

“I-I don’t really want to disturb you if you’re busy…But, we need to talk about the garage.”

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose we should.” She, too, was nervous, as she could tell he was. “I-I’m just going over my schedule at the hospital. I’m going to start my in-house training next week.”

“You are? That’s fantastic!” He sounded genuinely excited for her. “Selling the garage right now should really help you out.”

“Tremendously.”

“Except…except I know your brother doesn’t want you to and Jesse told me why.” He came to the quilt rack at the foot of her bed. “But, wouldn’t your parents think your education is more important? Especially when there’s nothing you can do with the garage anymore? I’d like to help you finish getting your degree and take the garage off your hands. So you won’t have to worry about it anymore.” He opened the purse he carried and dug inside. She tried not to watch, until she realized he was pulling out two thick bundles of money.

Unable to keep her gaze down, she stared at the money in decided awe. Then blinked at him. Just then she noticed that he looked different. She’d tried to keep her head down and not look at him on purpose. However, there was no tearing her line of vision away at that point. His ordinarily beautiful eyes were enhanced with beguiling, not overdone, makeup. He wore a subtle layer of makeup on his face, too. She was stunned. She had thought he was the type of herm who simply wouldn’t wear the stuff because he didn’t care. But then realized that Brian Spilner was simply a role and not necessarily who Brian O'Conner was at all. His incredible good looks had been elevated to an astonishing level. If anything, she had to admit to herself, everything about him was getting more and more intriguing.

“I got eighty Gs right here, for a down payment,” he was saying. “I would have brought the whole half, but I couldn’t fit any more money in my bag. You can keep this right now, in good faith.” He came around to the side of the quilt rack and set it on her bed. When he bent forward, she didn’t see any trace of the slight wisps of hair he used to have on his sternum. “I can be back with the rest of the money whenever you can get the bill of sale and deed and all that together.”

As she watched him, it seemed that he couldn’t be real. She must be having some sort of an out-of-body experience. First, he was too beautiful. And second, he was handing her eighty-thousand dollars, just like that. In a matter of seconds, it occurred to her that she could pay off quite a lot of her school debt. With just that. What Dom had sent her was only another of a series of ongoing payments to keep herself in class. That included the grants she’d managed to secure since starting med school. But this money at the foot of her bed could go a long way. Plus Brian had just said he was bringing more.

This was the very reason she’d needed to sell the garage in the first place. Only she’d never expected to see the money. It would all be arranged through the bank with the buyer. It would just be a matter of numbers on a bank statement, which she’d immediately write over in large increments to the university. She probably would only see small amounts when she’d need to withdraw something to help buy groceries and gasoline, if even then. 

But this. This was like nothing she’d imagined.

“Do we got a deal?” Brian asked.

He might have said something more, but she hadn’t heard. “A deal?”

“Look, I know your brother won't be happy that you sold the garage, but this is for you. So you can have a career that’ll get you through the rest of your life. He’d have to understand that.” He looked at her searchingly.

“But, why are you doing this?” She heard herself asking.

“Because I want to buy a garage. Me and my friend. This is what we want to do. And you need to sell yours. This is a great opportunity for all of us.”

The catalogs slipped from her hold. She slid to the edge of the bed. “I see. Or is this really just about my brother?”

“What? No. This has nothing to do with him.”

“Do you know where he is?” Mia began to wonder if Jesse was right. That perhaps Brian really did know where Dom was and could bring him back home.

“No.” Still at the corner of her bed, he lowered his lids. “I don’t know anything about him. I’m sure he went somewhere he couldn’t be found. And I was too busy trying to keep ahead of the law, myself. I haven’t any way to know where he is.”

“So, this isn’t about him?” She was having a hard time believing him. “You’re not just trying to get the garage to hold onto it for him?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“You’re not waiting for him to come back?”

He frowned and looked at her. “Why would I do that?”

“Because,” she motioned at him. “You-you’re having his baby.”

“So? There’s nothing I can do about that. Or expect to. I’m buying the place ‘cos it’s a good deal and to help you out, all right?”

“Why should you do this for me? I thought you didn’t give a damn one way or the other about me.”

“I never meant to make you think that, Mia.”

“Then you really do care about my classes?”

“Of course. Not just your classes. You’re gonna be the aunt of my…” He motioned vaguely at himself. “I mean, we’re gonna be family.”

Carefully, she got up and went to the corner of the bed near him. Yes, he really was even more beautiful than she thought. Sparkling gold earrings and curls…dark brown eyeliner and impossibly long, long lashes with golden brown shades of eye shadow hooding brilliant blue eyes…He was truly divine. Standing like he was, in that loose denim jacket, she couldn’t even see that he was with child. The sight of him was making her giddy. She hated admitting it to herself, but she knew she’d stupidly fallen in love with him, and knew right then that she’d never gotten over him. “You sure you want to do this?” she dared.

“Well, yeah. I just said…”

“You can’t just expect me to make up my mind right this second. We need to discuss this. Here.” She backed a little. “Sit down.” She patted the bed. Brian. On her bed. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure it was all real.

“Okay, sure. Do you mind if I use the bathroom real quick first, though? I’ve gotta…”

If anything, he was making it all very real, and in a comfortable way. “Go ahead,” she nodded.

In his absence, she thought maybe it would be more appropriate to go downstairs and talk in the living room. With Jesse present. No, to hell with that. She was no longer living under Dom’s rule. Not that it wasn’t Jesse’s business, but she wanted to be alone with O'Conner. To drink in his very real presence. And to discuss some things that weren’t Rystrom’s business. Quickly, she cleared off her bed of everything but the money, which she moved to the center. Then she neatened the red and gold Eastern Indian bedspread and pillows.

When Brian returned, he looked a little less tense, though a little more tired. Since Mia had taken a seat toward the head of the bed, he sat at the edge by the quilt rack, on the same side she was on.

“It wouldn’t be too much for me to ask,” she began, “where you’ve been all this time then, if not with my brother?”

He exhaled. “Running. Most of it, anyways. All over the country.”

“So you think they’re not going to find you when you apply for a business license? Of course they will.” 

“I’m not on the run any more. They’re not looking for me. They exonerated my police record.”

“What?” She was completely puzzled. “How could that be?”

“Well. They caught up with me in Miami, street racing. I made a bundle that night, too. They took it, of course, but I got it back eventually. First, I had to agree to do a job for Immigration and Customs. They said if I did it, they’d clear my record. It was either that or go to prison. I agreed. So, I did the job and everything’s copasetic.”

“It couldn’t possibly be that easy.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he laughed tiredly. “It was a bitch. But it’s done. Now my name’s clear and I can go back to work with the LAPD.”

“The LAPD?” She was cautiously horrified. “Are you crazy? Why would you want to do that?”

“Because, that’s what I know. I think it’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“But, Brian--”

“And I plan to get back into racing as soon as I can get another car ready.”

“Racing?” She was beginning to worry. For the short time she’d known him, she’d learned that much about him; he was an adrenalin-junkie. “You can’t race in your condition. You can’t go back to being a cop in your condition, either. That’s just crazy.” Getting up, she went to him. Then tucking a leg under herself, she sat right next to him on the bed and took his hands. They felt so big and strong, yet slender and lissome. “You’re not going to do any of that crazy stuff. You’re gonna be a mom. You’ve got to settle down now. I mean, realistically, at least until you have that baby and are ready to go back to work.” 

“I can't just sit around doing nothing until then.” Brian clearly wasn’t taking her seriously. “That’s centuries from now. I’m already working.”

“Doing what?”

“Well, right now, I’m house-sitting. But, that was ‘cos we needed a place to live that didn’t cost eighteen-hundred a month or more. In the meantime, I’ve gone through most of my BCWP and I’m waiting to do my last training requal courses. I did all the written stuff, now it’s the physical retesting. Plus, I'm actively looking for a job 'til that all goes through.”

“You’re what?” She was getting more confused by the minute. She didn’t know what question took priority, but she instantly had many. “What’s that BC-whatever?”

“Oh, those are the standard POST waiver courses. To get back into the Department.”

“And physical testing? For the kinds of physical training you have to do as a cop? Why would you do that stuff now, when you’re pregnant? Why would they even let you? Didn’t you tell them you’re expecting?”

“Well, yeah. They’re cool with it. I get restricted testing 'til after I come back from maternity leave. Then I’ve got to pass the regular physical testing. But, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Brian, please. You worry me. I’m about to start my training at UCLA, and knowing what I know about you…well, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Evidently a little affronted, he managed to slip his hands away.

“I’ve been thinking,” she allowed, swallowing. “You need this money, too.”

“Yeah. To buy the garage. That’s what I needed it for. Now it’s yours.”

“But, you’re going to be a mom. Kids cost money. You’re going to need it.”

“That’s not all the money I’m ever gonna have. I just told you.”

She slid closer. She knew he needn’t give up his money when they could share it. Not only was his baby going to need money, he’d need another parent. His father wasn’t around and wasn’t expected to be. Children needed two parents and she could be there for him. Not as an aunt, but as another mom. “You said you needed a place to live that didn’t cost eighteen hundred dollars a month. You’re not wanted by the police any more--your record is clean. Well, I’ll gladly open my house,” and more, she thought, “and let you stay here.”

“Here?” He looked around himself again, only appearing a little more alarmed. “You’d let me stay here?”

“Yes,” she smiled, nodding. “Of course. You need a place to stay. I won't charge you a thing. After all, like you said, you’re going to be family.”

“I-it’s not quite that simple.” He retreated slightly to the very edge of the corner. “I’m living with a friend.”

It seemed as if someone pulled the bed out from under her. Stunned, she blinked at him. “You-you’re living with someone?”

“Yeah. He’s an old friend. He’s the one I’m going into business with. We grew up together. We learned mechanics working at his uncle’s garage since we were like ten.”

“Oh.” As relief flooded through her, she closed her eyes a moment to regain her breath. “I-I thought you meant…Well, if he’s going to be your business partner, then I’m going to need to meet him, anyway. Bring him around and we can talk.”

“He doesn’t have a place to live, either. So, that’s why we’re doing the house-sitting job together, see? We’re both in the same situation. Half of the money is his.”

“Really.” Even if it sounded like a platonic friendship, it suddenly made the source of the money suspect. “Exactly how did you two acquire all of this money, anyway?”

He seemed nonplused a moment. “Does it matter?”

It was probably by less than legitimate means, and she realized she really shouldn’t be asking. How a person came by their money, she’d learned with her brother’s activities, did not need to be divulged. “Never mind. It’s none of my business. Well, I don’t know what to do about your friend. I suppose something can be arranged. Once we figure out the way we’re going to handle the money. Since half of it is his, it’ll require some thought.”

“There’s nothing to be thought.” Brian stood up. “You take the money, we’ll buy the garage, get it off your hands, and that’s it.”

“We don’t have to do it that way, at all.” She stood up, too. “I’ll never feel right about taking all that money from you when you need it as much as I do. Maybe even more. That’s my niece or nephew you’re having.” She looked down at his abdomen. “This child is really important to me. Since my brother isn’t around, I want to help you take care of him.”

“I’ll be around. All the time. I’ve already hired Jesse to come work at the garage. He asked, and of course I said yes. I mean, who wouldn’t hire someone with his skills? So, I’m not gonna be no stranger.” He started to back to the door.

“I’m not as desperate for money as you think,” she assured him, seeing that she was going to need more tact, discussion, and persuasion to get him to understand what she was proposing. Worse, he seemed to be preparing to go. “Dom sends me money. It definitely helps to get me by. There’s the income from the market. And then once you start making money on the garage--”

Interrupting her, he abruptly stated, “If he’s sending money to you and everything, you must know where he is. Or have an idea.”

Okay, she’d had to tell him that. Despite that it was against her better judgment. “Well, no. You misunderstand.” She frowned again, taking a few steps toward him. “We don’t know where he is. He just calls us every now and then and sends money. We have no way to contact him. He wires the money from different locations every time and uses a new cell phone whenever he calls. I don’t know exactly what he does, but he’s very careful to make sure his calls won’t--”

“Shit! I mean, you don’t know how bad I want to…” He looked at her with such sincerity that she knew then that he was still deeply in love with Dom. Although he was acting as if he needed no one’s help, she knew it wasn’t true.

“We honestly have no idea how to get in contact with him. But, you’re welcome to stay here. At least you might be here next time he calls,” she added, hoping that would convince him to stay.

“Doesn’t matter.” He looked away. “I’m sure it’d be a bad idea, anyway. Look, I’ll just bring my friend over whenever you get the deed and everything necessary to meet you and we’ll finalize the deal. I’ll give you my cell number and you can call me--”

“I’ve got everything I need already. I’d really rather not sell my father’s garage; that’s not what Dom wants, and I’d rather honor his wishes. When I didn’t have a choice, that was different. But you’ve changed that. We can work out a joint deal with your friend after we meet, perhaps. If I decide I want to do business with him. Then I can still keep part ownership of the garage. I mean this, Brian. This makes the most sense.” To show him how serious she was, she stepped to him. Leaning in close, she reached up and kissed his smooth cheek. God, he was so pretty without that awful stubble. “And of course I want you and the baby to live here at the house. I mean everything I say.”

With an unreadable expression, he studied her face a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow with my friend then and we’ll figure this thing out.”

~~~ 

In the pickup, Brian threw off his jacket. He hadn’t wanted to take it off in front of Mia, even though she was well aware of his condition. It bothered him that she might be disconcerted by his physical changes. Whatever. He just couldn’t bring himself to. 

On his drive back to the house, once again behind his shades, he couldn’t stop thinking about the possible prospect of getting in touch with Toretto. It equally excited the hell out of Brian and scared him. No matter what else was going on in his life, he knew that deep down, he really wanted Dom to be part of it. Even though it was crazy insane. He knew Dom still had to be upset as hell about the whole fucked up bust, and therefore would be ten times as pissed off about the baby. No matter what Jesse said. How could he presume to know a thing like that? That would be a situation Brian couldn’t bear to face. All he could imagine was that if Dom never knew, it would be for the best. He didn’t need to spend the rest of his life knowing he had a kid somewhere with someone he never wanted anything to do with again.

And what the hell was going on with Mia? Why was she talking about running the garage together? He could just imagine what she’d think about Rome, too. She probably wouldn’t agree to sell to him. Pearce would say something to give her the wrong idea, like he often did, and she’d call the whole thing off. They didn’t need to making it a joint thing. Why was she making it so difficult? And insisting he stay there at the house.

As he waited in traffic, be felt himself growing more weary by the minute. Way too often he would have fallen asleep by that hour. Which was totally stupid, but he couldn’t help it. Now that he wasn’t having the stimulus of talking to anyone, he was getting increasingly sleepy. God, why didn’t the fucking light change already so he could hurry up and get to the house and lie down? Or maybe he should have just taken Mia up on her offer and stayed there. Even if just until he had to go pick up Pearce. Then he could fucking get some sleep and wouldn’t have to worry about driving. Hopefully, she’d let him go lie down in the master bedroom, Dom’s room. That would have been ideal. Just to lie on his bed again. Recall the times he’d been on that bed before.

Releasing the brake, he let the truck roll forward, hoping traffic would at least allow him to get to second gear. As he meshed the clutch and accelerator into the next gear, he wondered why Mia had even offered that he stay there. That seemed crazy on her part. It was actually cool that she wanted to be in the baby’s life. But, no. That wasn’t all there was to it. Her gestures seemed a little too heavy. The way she’d looked at him. He could see she’d been crying. He’d expected her to be mad, but she’d got over that quick, and suddenly she was inviting him into her house, and to co-own the garage with him. Could she really think he could just forget Dom and take up with her? Yeah, he’d been real attracted to her and she was certainly still attractive. And he liked her a lot. And he remembered how she’d come onto him that night, then been pissed when he’d put her off…Yeah, that’s what she was after. She was still attracted to him. Oh, crap. That was going to mess up the sale of the garage. Then again, she could change her mind entirely, the more pregnant he became. And that would be for the best.

Once he got back to the house in Los Feliz, he found Sonia still present, cleaning the master bedroom. He went to the guest room, where he and Rome were staying, which he found she’d already cleaned, and went straight to the bed. There he kicked off his sneakers and lay down. Switching on the TV quietly, he listened for the vacuum cleaner to shut off, so he could go let Sonia know he was home, so she could go ahead and leave whenever she finished her work.

The next thing he knew, though, he started awake. The slant of the sunlight told him it was late afternoon. He looked at the clock. It was after 5:00 pm. He barely had time to prepare to go pick Rome up. He put on a pair of maternity shorts, which were cooler than the denim and Lycra jeans under his rayon shirt. Once again, they’d be buying dinner out, he thought, being as he sure as hell hadn’t prepared any dinner.

Downstairs, he found a note for him in the foyer. It was in Spanish, which translated as, “I prepared you taquitos and frijoles. They are in the oven. There is guacamole in the refrigerator. Enjoy. Sonia.” That was sweet. He wondered why she’d gone so far out of her way to fix him dinner when he was just a house-sitter. Then he remembered the fuss she’d made about the baby and what she perceived as his undernourished state.

For some reason, the sight of Rome sauntering out of the garage in his loose, thin jeans and sleeveless shirt was better than ever. As soon as Rome got into the cab, Brian leaned forward and kissed him. The slight fragrance of oil, grease, and gasoline on him was even more engaging. “Missed you,” Brian said.

That pleased Rome. He kissed Brian in response. “Mm, baby…” and kissed him deeper. “Damn, you look good.”

“So, do you.”

“Mm, I like you like this.” Rome suddenly looked hunted. “You ain’ plannin’ on us drivin’ out to Barstow tonight, ah’ you?”

Brian was too excited to be coy. “No, nothin’ like that. We got a garage.”

“What?” Rome was understandably shocked. “What chyou mean we got a garage? Fo’ real? Whe’ you fine one so fast? We wasn’t even lookin’ yet.”

“I saw an ad in the paper. I called and went over there today. We made a deal.”

“You made a deal? I thought this was a fifty-fifty thing. You went and made a deal without me?”

“Don’t worry. I know the lady selling it and I know the garage. It’s perfect. You would have grabbed it just the same.”

“Wait. Why didn’ chyou tell me about it? Why didn’ chyou say you was goin’ to check out a garage? I thought you was supposed ta be lookin’ fo’ a job, anyway. Not a garage. The way you was talkin’ yesterday, I thought you’d a been packin’ to go to Barstow today.”

“Never mind that right now. I got us a garage.” Releasing the brake, Brian slipped out of neutral to push his way from the lot out into traffic. “I was lookin’ through the paper this morning and found it, just like that. I called and they said ‘come on over,’ so I went.”

“You could a called me. You know I had my cell.”

“I didn’t have time. It all happened really fast. Then when I got home, I was so fucking tired, I fell asleep the minute I sat down.”

Rome exhaled. “Well, what about this place? Whe’ is it? How much it gonna cost us?”

“You’re not gonna believe it. It’s in Echo Park, real close by. Top-of-line equipment. Already has clientele, so we won’t be starting from scratch.”

“A’ight, a’ight. How much it cost?”

“Two hundred grand.”

“Top a the line equipment?” Rome sounded completely dubious. “Close by? Clientele? Yo’ right. I don’ believe it. What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Brian glanced excitedly to his partner. 

“How you get it so cheap? Wha’ chyou do that? Agree to sleep wit’ dis lady?”

Pearce was so fucking astute, Brian flinched. “No, man. See, she’s in med school and needs the money in a hurry. We’re going over tomorrow and buy the place. We also got a great mechanic to go along with the deal.”

“What?” Rome held his ground. “Who the fuck is that? I don’ like you hirin’ nobody without meetin’ ‘em first. An’ buyin’ a place behind mah’ back? What’s gotten into you, O'Conna’?”

“All right,” Brian confessed. “I know them. The mechanic is this dude I knew when I worked here in LA. Jesse Rystrom. He’s a fucking genius in the garage. We definitely want him on our crew. He jumped at the chance to work with me. The lady’s a mechanic, too, who used to work there, but she’s studying to become a doctor at UCLA, so she needs to sell the place to pay her tuition and everything. She is saying something about how she wants to co-own the garage with us, though, so she doesn’t have to completely sell it out.”

“Co-own? What? No. Dis was supposed ta be oua’ place. Nobody else’s. Nobody tellin’ us what to do. I don’ like it. Lus’ just find us anotha’ place.”

“First of all, there’s no way we’re gonna get another deal this good. You know we were expectin’ to pay closer to four hundred Gs. It’d be stupid for us to turn this down.”

“Theh’s the catch. Why’d you say there was no catch? That’s a catch right theh.”

“I don’t think it’s that big a catch. I think we may be able to talk her out of it. Along with Jesse, I think. Since he knows her, too, all three of us may be able to talk her out of it.”

Still seeming unconvinced, Rome glowered out at the traffic. “We betta’. ‘Cos I don’ like the sound a that.”

~~~

Wednesday--September 13

Driving to the Toretto house the day before had led to anxiety Brian hadn’t anticipated. It was even worse the next day after dinner when he arrived with Rome. It didn’t help that the baby was usually active since dinner, but seemed more so in arriving at the house. It had to be a coincidence, because how could he know he was at the curb of his father’s house? No, it was probably the burst of adrenalin Brian was experiencing, affecting the baby. This time he’d worn a sleeveless blouse of silver-gray viscose with a surplice style. The band on the bottom hem wouldn’t allow it to fit him long, but Rome had bought it for him in Miami before they knew he was pregnant. Fortunately, the front breast pockets obscured his swollen nipples, though not the fact that he now had a modest bust. He hadn’t worn a bra because the ones he owned, should they show at all, were too sexy. He wore it over another pair of maternity jeans and sneakers again. Then, because the nights were beginning to cool off with the approach of fall in LA, he brought his denim jacket. And finished his outfit off with enough makeup to keep Rome from asking too many questions. For questions about Mia was one of the aspects about the visit that were making him nervous. 

After a shower, Rome didn’t smell like his job anymore. He, too, was a little cool, so he’d brought a casual, oversized, light gray hoodie to wear over his thin, waffle knit, sleeveless shirt. “What’re we doin’ he’?” Rome immediately wanted to know when they pulled up at the house. “Aren’t we goin’ ta see dis garage?”

Brian could appreciate how strange that could look from the view of a business deal. “The utilities have been off there for a couple of months, so there’s no electricity. We already agreed to meet here at her house to get the deal done. She and I can probably arrange to turn them back on tomorrow morning.

“I ain’ signin’ no papeh’s 'til I see the place.”

“Well, I don’t got no key. So, we can drive over there with Jesse and our flashlights and check the place out first.”

“Who’s ca’ that?” Rome asked of the 1994 Robin’s egg blue Integra. 

“Hers,” Brian supplied.

“Nice decals.”

As Brian released his seatbelt, he saw Jesse come bounding out of the house. He held his side as he raced to the curb as fast as he could, a little labored, owing to his wounds. 

“Who dat?” Pearce wanted to know.

“Jesse Rystrom, the mechanic who’s gonna be working with us.” As Brian he opened his door, Jesse arrived and held it for him.

“Here, let me help you,” Jesse immediately volunteered.

“I’m fine,” Brian assured his host.

“No, way,” Jesse negated. “You’re with child. You should be waited on hand-and-foot.” Then added, “Mm. Nice blouse.”

Brian suddenly felt as if the neckline was a little too low, a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time. He hitched his denim jacket closed as best as he could. Already, he felt Pearce’s warning look. “Come on, Jesse; you ought a be resting. You’re the one who’s fucked up, not me.”

“S’okay. I’m only too happy to.”

Setting his sneakered foot on the running board, Brian did the introductions under the dome light, even before he could get out of his seat. “Jesse Rystrom, this is my business partner and friend, Roman Pearce. Roman, Jesse.”

“Hey,” Jesse greeted, looking into the cab past Brian.

“Hey,” Rome near-muttered in response, a bad sign.

They went up the walkway over the somewhat overgrown front lawn, leaving the duffel in the camper shell with the rest of the money for the garage. They could come and get it when and if the papers were signed, Rome insisted. “So, Jesse,” Brian said, his concern not having been dealt with the day before, “how are you? How bad was it?”

“I had to have surgery and everything,” Jesse replied, messing with a different knit cap on his head than he’d worn the day before. “Eight hours, they said. They to take out a couple of bullets--one from my right lung and one from my intestines on this side.” He indicated his left, below the waist. “I was pretty fucked up. I just remember waking up every now and then in the hospital. I slept through most of the time I was in there.”

“You was shot?” Rome asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Jesse answered with his usual candor. “These goddamn pricks with scatter guns. But Brian, he took care of their asses.”

Naturally, Rome was mystified. “What? What dis about? How come you didn’ tell me about dis?”

“Just another job,” Brian mumbled.

“Wasn’t just another job to me,” Jesse went on. “Brian here took on the fuckin’ Trans. Avenged my ass, man.”

It was Jesse who opened the front door, inviting them in. Rome hung back, taking Brian’s forearm and quietly remarked, “Dis why you like bein’ a cop so much, ain' it?”

Though Brian had a clue what that meant, he wasn’t going to dignify it with an answer. “It was just another job, like I said.”

Inside, as they had the day before, the memories ran deep. The white-washed walls, the glass-front cabinets, the abundance of candles, which were evidently Mia’s touch, the hardwood flooring, the familiar sofa and chairs--the whole layout of the house.

When Mia suddenly appeared in a spaghetti-strap top and full, handkerchief skirt, suddenly Brian knew exactly what Rome was going to think. In fact, Brian felt him stiffen.

Eyes roving Brian first, Mia then extended a hand to Rome. “Hello. I’m Mia Toretto.”

The frost instantly gathered in the air around Rome. Then he at least forced himself to shake her hand. “Roman Pearce. You the one who owns the garage?”

“Yes,” she nodded, then offered the sofa. “Please. Sit down. Would you like a drink? A beer?”

Ignoring her question, Rome observed, “You related to my homey’s dude…”

Appearing not to understand, Mia looked vacantly at Brian. “Excuse me?”

There was nothing to do but answer. “She’s his sister.”

“Oh, I see,” Rome nodded. “I don’ like nothin’ about this, O'Conna’. This why you done all this behind mah’ back. You plannin’ on hookin’ back up wit’chyo’ dude. Well, I ain’ in’erested. Get the down payment back. I go wait out in the truck.” Rome started to go.

“Wait!” Brian grabbed Rome’s strong arm. “Come on! We already talked about that. She’s stuck with a garage she’s trying to sell, we want to buy one--I don’t see no reason why we can’t take it off her hands.”

“I see every reason why not,” Rome said curtly on his way back to the front door.

“Excuse us,” Brian fought to retain some courtesy, then raced after his friend. Out on the porch, he caught Pearce and hissed at him. “First of all, that was fucking rude.”

“I ain' even gonna tell you what my ‘first of all’ thought was,” Rome retorted. “Don’ play this game wit’ me, O'Conna’. I take my sheh’ a the money an’ go.”

“Don’t be stupid! This is the chance of a lifetime. We can go over there right now and I can show you the garage and the equipment. That alone should make you jump at this offer. Everything I said about her and Jesse are true. You can ask them. And you can ask them about her brother, too, and they’ll tell you that he’s not coming back. He can’t. Every law enforcement agency in the country would be down on him so fast, he wouldn’t have a prayer. So there’s no reason we can’t take advantage of the situation and buy ourselves that garage.”

“Seven yea’s,” Rome pointed out. “All he hafta be gone is seven yea’s. Statute of limitation oveh’ an’ he come back fo’ his garage. An’ who he find but his snatch and baby, waitin’ fo’ him.” He headed down the front steps.

It was Brian who leapt down the stairs that time. He managed to seize the back of Rome’s shirt and yanked him to a halt. “Seven years is a fucking long time!” he admonished. “We could be out of here by then!”

“Why would we?” Rome argued. “People don’t leave a thrivin’ business. An’ from the soun’ of it, we could really make this work. If you had yo’ heart in it an’ not yo’ baby’s daddy.”

“Goddamn it, Pearce!” Brian spit. “You wanna blow this and take off? How do you think I feel? I want to do this with you, ‘cos you’re my friend and you’re here and I know you’d be damn good at it. You’re who’s important to me. Stop worrying about Toretto or his sister. They won’t have nothing to do with this.”

That stopped Rome. He looked up and down Brian. “Marry me.”

Heart about stopping, Brian froze, eyes widening. “What?”

“Marry me and make that baby mine. Then we do this and have oua’ own kids.”

Chest heaving, Brian studied Rome. He knew exactly why Rome was making the play and it made perfect sense. As unromantic as it was, that was just like Rome. It would never have been romantic.

Before he could say anything, two black Dodge Durango SUVs suddenly pulled up in front of the house. One blocked the drive, the other stopped in front of the F150. A dark-haired feme got out on the drive along with a tall guy with shoulder-length hair. They both appeared to be Latino, as well as Brian could make them out in the gathering dusk. They were dressed casually. As she came up the drive, he recognized the feme. Though he’d not seen her for a while, he recognized Letty.

He hadn’t known she’d become friendly with the team again. The surly look on her face said she wasn’t over her fallout with him, though. “Letty,” he said.

“Hey, Spilner,” she responded, coming toward him and Rome, along with the guy who’d been driving the Durango she’d gotten out of. “What’re you doing here?”

Rome shifted impatiently. “Who dis, now? An’ what she just call you?”

Brian spoke quietly so the guests wouldn’t overhear. “She was a friend of Mia and Jesse’s. I’ll explain later.”

Because she and her friend didn’t go straight up to the house at all, but came to them, Brian started the introductions. “Letty, this is Roman--”

“I know who he is,” she cut him off. For an instant, her eyes flicked as she looked over Brian and she ran her tongue inside the corner of her mouth in reserved consternation. From beneath her lightweight, loose jacket, she abruptly whipped out an H&K P2000 handgun, aimed at Brian’s middle. Her partner did likewise, aiming at Pearce. They kept the guns relatively concealed, close to their bodies. “Come on,” she mumbled.

“What the hell!” Rome immediately reacted. “What the fuck is this?”

“Just be quiet,” she instructed, “and keep your hands up where I can see ‘em. Walk straight ahead to the truck at the bottom of the drive.”

Completely confused, Brian couldn’t think of any way to avert the situation. He could only do as commanded. He conveyed this to Rome by way of a quick look, then started for the driveway. He had his SIG Sauer right on hand in his messenger bag, and he knew Rome’s weapon was in the pickup but couldn’t think of how to get at them without evoking gunfire. “What’s going on, Letty?” he questioned.

“Shut up, O'Conner,” she said, revealing she was aware of his real name. “I knew this was gonna be fun, but I didn’t have any idea it was gonna be this fun.”

As soon as they reached the Durango, Brian looked back at the house, hands half-way raised, and whistled loudly. 

“Callate!” Letty’s partner warned. 

She thrust the gun into Brian’s ribs. “Shut up, asshole! You think it would bother me to put a couple of slugs in you or your brat?” Brian thought he saw the front curtains move just before he was shoved into the open back door of the Durango.

~~~

As soon as their guests lit out the front door, Jesse looked to Mia, puzzled, then went to hover by the window in an attempt to find out what they were going to do. If he should overhear them, oh well.

“Jesse!” Mia interjected. “Get away from there!”

When he ignored her, she persisted.

“Jesse, I mean it! It’s none of our business.”

“It’s all of your business,” Jesse pointed out, glancing back at her. “Literally. You wanna know what’s going to happen with your garage, don’t you?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out when they’re good and ready to tell us.”

Unfortunately, they were speaking too quietly for Jesse to understand them, but he could tell Pearce was pissed as all hell. Then Brian jumped off the porch after his friend, catching him by the shirt. They continued to argue heatedly. Damn, how anyone could fight with anyone as cool or pretty as O'Conner didn’t make any sense, but they sure went at it.

Just as they both fell silent, a couple of dark SUVs pulled up on the street in front of the house. Something was wrong. Instantly alarmed, Jesse dropped down to a crouch, still at the window. 

“What is it?” Mia asked, still at the back of the room.

Two people came up to Brian and Pearce--one of them a chick. Fuck. It looked like Letty, but it was growing dark outside and Jesse wasn’t absolutely positive. “I don’t know, man…” he allowed, swallowing.

Mia finally came closer.

“Get down!” Jesse told her. “Don’t let ‘em see you.”

“What? Why?” Mia shot towards the staircase, hiding from direct sight. “Who’s out there?”

When Jesse saw their two guests being herded down to the SUV at the bottom of the drive, he looked to Mia again. “Somebody’s after them. Somebody’s forcing them into a big SUV out there. I think it’s a couple of Dodge Durangos.”

“What?” Mia became just as alarmed as Jesse. “Oh, my god! I’m calling the police.”

“I don’t get it,” Jesse added. “One of them looked a hell of lot like Letty.”

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate universe spin on the Fast and Furious series.

Wednesday--September 13

They were hustled into the very back seat of the Durango. Two other operatives had taken the two front seats. Letty and her partner slammed their doors shut after they were in, and both vehicles sped off. Letty yanked Brian’s bag from him and threw it on the middle seat where she and her partner were situated. They cuffed both Rome and Brian, hands in front. Half-kneeling, Letty and her partner traded their H&Ks for Walther Uzi pistols, which they trained on their captives.

“What’s this about?” Brian asked. He could feel the baby stirring, which made him even more anxious.

Rather than answer, Letty dug through Brian’s purse. Then she motioned at her partner, who leaned over the back of the seat and patted Rome down.

“Imagine my surprise,” Letty remarked to Brian, “when I found out you were herm. I thought you were a dude.” She held up the tube of lip gloss from his bag she’d also found. “Then it all made sense.”

On finding Rome’s wallet and keys, her partner took them.

“Hey, that’s mine,” Rome protested. “I got eighty-two dolla’s in theh, an’ I expec’ it all back when you done playin’ games wit’ us.”

“Where’re you taking us?” Brian frowned, hoping to cut Rome off before he said something they’d both regret.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she said. In the dim light within the Durango, Letty drew out Brian’s gun. She lowered the Uzi and he saw the glint of the silver barrel as she aimed the SIG at him, instead. “How ironic it would be to die by one of your own bullets.” 

“What?” he demanded, alarm increasing.

“What the hell?” Rome, too, alarmed. “All messin’ aroun’ aside. Can’t you see he on the nest? What kind a sick person would shoot--?”

“How ‘bout I shoot you first?” She aimed at Rome.

That shut Rome up, though he was tense and really ready for action after that.

Brian continued, still completely confused. “Why you, Letty? What are you doing? I don’t get this.”

“Why are you so surprised?” she angled the gun sights back on him. “You know how I felt about you. You wanna guess how hard it is to for me to keep from pulling this trigger?”

“What she talkin’ about?” Rome wanted to know.

“He knows damn well what I’m talking about,” Letty answered before Brian could even think of what to say.

“No digo demasiado,” her partner said abruptly.

“Dire lo que quiero,” she snapped back at him.

Rome had no idea what they were saying. “You betta’ not a had som'm goin’ on wit huh’.” He gestured with a nod toward Letty. “As it is, I thought maybe you an’ that otha’ chick had som'm goin’ on.”

It was only fair to clue Rome in so the wrong idea wouldn’t torture him. Brian kept his eyes on Letty. “She was Toretto’s girlfriend. Only he dumped her for me. That’s what she’s talking about.”

“Oh, great,” Rome remarked sarcastically. “What kind a trouble you git us in, O'Conna’?"

Apparently, Letty wasn’t bluffing. She used the SIG to show her contempt by pistol-whipping Brian’s jaw with the grip. “Puto cabron,” she spit. 

While Brian reeled from the pain, he heard Letty go on. “Boy, this is gonna be fun.”

~~~

Anxiously, Mia rushed to the phone in the living room, her cell upstairs in her room, and fumbled to dial 911.

“You wanna bring the cops in?” Jesse questioned, standing beside the front window. “You don’t even gotta call. You know there’s a million of ‘em staked out all around the block, watching us.”

“Then where are they, Jesse?” Mia pointed toward the street. “If this house is under surveillance, where the fuck are the cops?”

That stayed Jesse. He looked blankly around what he could see in his range of vision through the window without standing directly in front of it. “That’s a good question…What are you going to say?” He went to her, still checking back through the front window on the way.

“What do you think?”

The dispatcher answered. “Nine-one-one. Could you please hold?”

“No, I can’t--” Mia was clicked to stand by.

Having apparently thought better, Jesse suddenly said, “Gimme your keys.”

“What? Why?” She was immediately hunted.

“Where are they? In your purse?” Jesse started heading for the stairs instead.

Forced to hang up, Mia fled after her houseguest and caught him on the stairs. “Don’t even think about it. Are you crazy?”

“I’m not gonna sit here and let anything happen to Brian.” He pulled away and continued up the steps. “I wanna know what the hell’s going on. Where was Letty taking him and why? What does she want with him?”

“That’s a damn good question.” She went after him. “Last time I saw her she was ready to go postal on everyone. She packed up and ran out of here in the middle of the night. I’d think if she was going to do anything she would have done it then, not wait around all these months.”

“And who were those guys she was with?”

At her bedroom door, Mia stood in the way. “How many were there?”

“I don’t know. There were like four of ‘em along with Letty. Plus I don’t know how many more in the two SUVs.” He tried to push past her. “Come on, Mia, you can’t do nothing. I know you care about Brian, man. That’s pretty clear. Let me go after them before they get too far.” That time he pushed past her into her room and began to scan it for her purse.

Rushing in, Mia raced straight to the dresser and grabbed her keys lying on it, next to her purse. “What did they look like? I’m going to need you here to give a description to the police.” From her purse, she dug out her cell.

“Man, they just looked like thugs,” Jesse supplied. “I didn’t see ‘em no good.”

“You must have seen something,” she stressed, flipping her phone open. “You saw Letty.”

“Yeah. Turn her ass in. Goddamn bitch. What’s she think she’s doing with all those thugs? And why take Brian? Like I said, it sure didn’t look like him and his friend were getting in there out of their own volition.”

“See?” Mia dialed 911 again. “You saw something. More than I did. You can give the police a description I can’t possibly.”

“But, Mia!” Jesse waved his hands. “We don’t know what’s going on with Brian. We’ve got to get to him and see if he’s okay!”

“I think he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself until the police get there.”

A different dispatch operator came on. “Nine-one-one. What’s the nature of your emergency?”

Mia had tucked the keys against herself so Jesse wouldn’t snatch them from her hand. “I had two guests in the front yard of my house, then two big SUVs pulled up and some people got out and forced my guests to get in.”

“Forced them how?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see. But, I have a witness right here who saw the whole thing. And I want to know where the police are that are supposed to be watching this house, anyway. At least, I figured they’ve been.”

“What is your name, ma’am?”

She finally dropped the keys down the front of her blouse to stop Jesse’s strong efforts to pry her hand loose. “Toretto. Mia Toretto.” She supplied her address when asked.

“Hold on, please.”

“Mia!” Jesse exclaimed. “Just give me the damn keys, man. I can’t stand here and do nothing!”

The dispatcher came back on. “We’re going to send someone to your house right away, Ms. Toretto. Can you tell me more about the vehicles you saw?”

Thrusting the phone out to Jesse, Mia instructed, “Tell them. Tell them about the SUVs and who and what you saw.”

~~~

While Mia was still on the phone, before the authorities arrived, Jesse went outside to search the area himself. Grabbing one of the Mag-Lites Toretto kept at hand in the living room, Jesse rushed out to scan the drive, street, and the F150 pickup. In the gutter by the driveway, he saw a card and picked it up. Because it was semi-gloss black, he nearly missed it. On the flip side was a glowing, stylized image of a whitish-blue lemniscate--better known as an infinity symbol. No words or numbers. Puzzled, he slipped it into a pocket, then continued his search.

The next important piece of data for clues would be the pickup. It wasn’t surprising that the doors were locked. That was no deterrent, however. He raced back to the house and in seconds had returned with a jimmy. Without effort, he broke into the cab. The overload of adrenalin from excitement amped up his breathing rate, reminding him of his healing wounds. He didn’t give a damn, though; he was too determined to find some piece of evidence that would help him locate Brian. When he was done rummaging through the cab, he aimed the Mag-Lite through the back window, into the bed. Back there the beam caught the lumpy form of a dark-colored duffel bag.

He was upstairs stashing the duffel at the bottom of his closet when the police arrived outside. Damn. He’d not had a chance to check inside the bag to be certain about the contents, but he suspected it could be the rest of the money for the garage. He wasn’t about to give that to the police or none of them might ever see it again. Chances were, they’d confiscate the truck for evidence, so it was a good thing Jesse had searched it first. His heart was pounding by the time he skipped down the stairs. Mia, he saw, was already at the front door, opening it. 

In an attempt to show cooperation, Jesse accompanied the cops outside to give his description of almost everything he’d seen. The first move he hoped they’d make was to immediately head after the Durangos. He even offered to accompany them to identify the vehicles. They assured him, however, that there were already patrol cars on the lookout for any two black, late model Durangos with dark-tinted windows, driving together. 

Feeling one-half traitor and the other half stressed, Jesse gave names and descriptions of Brian and his friend, as well as of Letty and her companions. He pointed out that O'Conner was expecting, as well, so they’d be extra alert on his behalf. Then the police began their own investigation all over the front yard, road, driveway, and sidewalk. The thought of the card in his pocket preyed on Jesse’s conscience, but he kept his mouth shut. The cops questioned him about the pickup and he had to tell them the victims had arrived in it. As the cops began to swarm all over it, Jesse noted more activity going on at the apartments next door. The front door of the Torettos’ house stood open with more cops coursing in and out. 

Curious, Jesse tried questioning the cops around him, but they all seemed too absorbed in poking around in and around the pickup. The ruckus going on next door was too bizarre to ignore; he decided to point it out to Mia, so he went back into the house. There, he found her sitting in one of the arm chairs looking distraught. Then it occurred to him that she must be reliving the incident from just a few months ago when everything had gone so awry. Shit. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. And sure as hell not so soon. 

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, he doubled back out to the porch to try and catch his breath. While he was out there, he saw two vans pull up to the apartment building and drive into the lot. Even in the evening dark, he could read the distinct lettering on the vehicles reading the word “Coroner.”

“Oh, shit!” Jesse raced back in the open door. “Mia! Mia! Come out here, man!” he gestured to her. “Som'm’s goin’ down. Som'm at the apartments next door.”

Before Jesse could bound off the porch to run next door, one of the officer’s took his arm. “Don’t concern yourself, Mr. Rystrom.”

Drawing a sweater on, Mia stepped out of the house to join Jesse on the porch. Her gaze immediately fixed on the apartment building as well, with all the lights and activity.

“But, what happened?” Jesse wanted to know. “Was somebody killed?” Considering that the emergency vehicles had spread to both the Torettos’ house and the apartment building at the same time, he was immediately suspicious. “Was it Letty and those guys in the Durangos? Did they have something to do with it?”

~~~

It wasn’t too long a trip. It took what seemed like only a little over half an hour. Especially because by 8:00 pm, the traffic was starting to thin out. They’d gone pretty much straight west, which meant they were heading to the coast. By the time they’d arrived, the pain in Brian’s jaw had pretty much subsided and just felt a little warm. The baby was uneasy still and fluttered every so often. Beside Brian, Rome had fallen silent, though he kept looking to him with concern. At least he’d figured out to keep his mouth shut.

When they got to their destination, it was dark. The drivers parked in a marina. As soon as the doors came open, they could smell the ocean. Good thing they had jackets. Letty’s partner pulled his captive forward and out of the truck through the passenger door. However, Letty held back, watching them go.

Then she addressed Brian quietly. “You know I don’t like you, dipshit.”

He didn’t say anything.

“What you did to Dom. It was bullshit. You know how many years Dom and I been together? And you just came along and thought you could take him away in a matter of weeks. You know how many other skank bitches tried and failed ‘cos I kicked their ass? Don’t think for one second I couldn’t kick yours, puta. And now look what you’ve done to him.” She aimed the SIG at him again. “I ought a shoot you right here and now. You know what pleasure that would give me?” Releasing the safety, she cocked the gun.

In the position he was in, she’d probably have a decent chance if she tried.

One of the other team members looked in. “Para ya!” he told Letty. “Sabes que no debemos hacer ninguna matanza. Andele aqui!”

Unwillingly, she lowered the gun slightly. “Get out.” She gestured at Brian with the gun.

Outside the SUV, Brian saw that they’d switched Pearce’s cuffs from in front to behind him. They loosened Brian’s cuffs roughly to do the same to his. This would make any move to get away that much more difficult. Now that he knew they weren’t going to be killed yet, anyway, he was relieved. When his cuffs were removed, he considered going for someone’s gun; unlike them, he could do whatever it took to get free, even if it meant taking some of them out. However, he figured it was probably within the jurisdiction of any of the team to injure or maim one or both of them, if necessary to bring them in. He couldn’t bring himself to jeopardize Rome’s or his baby’s safety.

The other members of the team all stood by with H&Ks, the Uzis bundled into totes. No doubt because the smaller guns were easier to hide from any possible onlookers. This insured that their hostages made no attempt to break away. It seemed like overkill to Brian, but at the same time it was a little flattering.

Letty stayed close by his side, the SIG still trained on his middle. “Try anything funny and I’ll shoot your fucking brat.” 

From the parking lot, they were walked out onto a pier in the marina.

Quietly, Rome whispered, “You know whe’ we at?”

“Marina del Rey,” Brian supplied.

“A’ways wanted to come he’.”

They finally came to a stop at the slip of a moderate-sized boat where the team had a muted discussion in Spanish. Brian heard a couple of the names of the team. Letty’s partner was Alonzo, and the driver of the other Durango, a big, tough-looking guy they called Sabino. They were going to take separate launches. The team was divided and they decided who would take the hostages. Letty insisted on sticking by Brian with a gun aimed at his belly.

This time they were hustled onto the first boat and straight below deck. It was a decent craft, but fairly small. Letty, having shouldered Brian’s bag, sat across from him, along with two of her teammates.

“Where to now?” he asked her, thinking it best to keep them all under the impression he didn’t understand or speak a word of Spanish.

“To see a friend of yours,” she said cryptically.

When the engine turned over, it drowned out the once familiar creak of wood while the ocean slapped against the hull. Brian couldn’t help but think of Miami, the place he’d become accustomed to those sounds. And suddenly he knew where they were going. He looked to Letty. What in fuck had she gotten herself into?

Along the way, Brian pondered how to extricate them from the situation. He subtly studied Letty’s teammates and pictured angles he could use to relieve them of their Uzis that wouldn’t get him or Rome shot. He knew Pearce would follow his lead--there was no worrying about that. The only real problem was by how far they were outnumbered. Hence the reason for the team of eight.

They didn’t cruise long by boat, either. The engine was cut after only fifteen minutes or so. Then they were prodded above deck again by the Uzi muzzles.

There, in the dim moonlight, they found a luxury yacht waiting. The name of the vessel could be made out emblazoned on the stern of the white hull: La Perla del Mar. Other members of the team were waiting on board the yacht and threw the ramp over to the launch. It was an unsteady walk to get cross it with one’s hands cuffed behind one’s back over the mildly choppy waves. Especially for Brian, whose balance was already a little off-kilter from his belly. He found he was more unbalanced than he realized under such conditions.

They were taken across the rear deck of the yacht into a pretty high-class salon. Seated on one of the plush salon sofas was Verone, kicking back with his slippered feet up on a coffee table, one of his fucking Havana cigars in hand. He didn’t look like he’d spent a minute in lock-up since they’d last seen him, swathed in a wine-colored, moiré dressing gown and dress slacks. His hair was neatly trimmed, his face cleanly shaven.

“Good to see you boys again,” he said, smirking. “I promised we’d see each other again and I’m the kind of man who likes to keep his promises.”

“Oh, shit,” Rome mumbled, turning his head away.

“You didn’t have to go to keep your promise on our account,” Brian said.

Verone puffed on his cigar. “You made it very hard for me to find you, you know.” 

Silently, Brian eyed him.

As always, a certain measure of sarcasm colored Verone’s tone. “I had to bring in some outside help. I believe you know one of them.” He nodded at Letty. “At least, that’s what she told me and my colleagues.”

“What colleagues are those?” Brian glanced to Letty who maintained her smug air.

“Don’t worry. You don’t need to know them.” Rising, Verone fixed his eyes on Brian’s face, studying him. Then got off the sofa to take a closer look. 

Naturally, Brian stepped back and bumped into Alonzo, who brusquely pushed him forward again. 

“What’s this?” Verone touched Brian’s jaw where he’d been struck with the SIG Sauer, making him flinch slightly at the pain. Then Verone ran a thumb over Brian’s cheekbone, and under his eye, in realization. “Makeup. Why, it’s very, very becoming.” The sarcasm drained from his tone as he looked over his team. “Que de ustedes le golpeo?”

Though Brian didn’t see it, one of them must have indicated Letty because Verone began to vent on her in Spanish about how he’d made given them very strict orders not to damage their charges. Letty argued back, providing a hint as to why she was there at all. She said she’d only come along because she had a personal vendetta against O'Conner and Verone had been made aware of it. She was gonna be damned if she wouldn’t take out some of her vengeance on the prisoner.

Incensed, Verone raised a hand to strike her, concluding by telling her to shut her mouth or he’d throw her overboard as soon as they got out to sea.

“What they sayin’?” Rome inquired quietly of Brian.

In response, he gave Rome a look that meant don’t let on that I can understand them, then quickly feigned ignorance with a puzzled shrug.

When he was done with Letty, Verone stepped back in front of Brian. “I see why your girlfriend couldn’t resist you.”

“Girlfriend?” Brian’s apprehension spiked a couple of points. “What girlfriend?” 

“Don’t play stupid with me.” Verone lowered an eyebrow at him. “This is going to be even better than I imagined.”

Performing a quick sweep on the layout of the salon still trying to find an escape, Brian continued to Pearce. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, ‘girlfriend.’ You know I don’t--”

“I think he talkin’ about Fu-en-tays,” Rome enunciated with distaste, the way he usually said her name.

“But,” Brian protested, “she wasn’t my girlfriend and you know it.”

“I know it,” Rome concurred, “but apparently, he been thinkin’ all along that she was.”

Add to that misconstruction that Brian and Rome had been the ones to take Verone down and it suddenly made a lot more sense why he’d been so hellbent to capture them. At that point, Brian knew it didn’t matter anymore; Verone had them for ensuring his arrest, and that was reason enough. “So, what do you want with us? Obviously, what we did made no difference. You’re out here livin’ large on your yacht.”

“You think for one second,” Verone countered, “that I believe you didn’t sleep with Monica?”

“I don’t even know where you got the idea that I did,” Brian admitted.

“I don’t expect you to be honest.” Verone exhaled a cloud of tobacco in Brian’s face and he immediately turned his head away. “I have my own sources.”

That was too much for Pearce to put up with. “Hey, look, I was theh’ the whole time. I can vouch for the fact that they neva’ slept together.”

“And you can tell all the lies you want, too,” Verone waved the cigar at Rome, “to protect your friend. I know what I know. Diego. Cruz.” He gestured at a couple of his henchmen. “Take this one to cabin four on the upper deck and keep him locked up until I give you further instruction.” Then he addressed Rome again. “It’s a nice room. Very comfortable.” He smiled sardonically. “You’ll like it in there.”

Rome was quick to rebuff. “Wait. You ain't puttin’ us togetha’?”

“I’ll put you where I want to put you,” Verone dismissed.

“Brian,” Rome tried, while the henchmen pulled him away.

Beginning to panic, Brian addressed Verone. “Whatever your problem is, don’t take it out on Pearce. He was just doin’ a job on accouna’ me. I got him into it, so don’t blame him.”

“Aside from sleeping with my woman, you cost me some money,” Verone explained impatiently, “and caused me a great inconvenience. Now I can’t go back to the States. And I enjoyed living and doing business here. You come with me.” This time he gestured for Alonzo and Sabino to accompany them.

The two seized Brian’s upper arms hard and forced him down the corridor after Verone. His first instinct was to fight, even though he felt the muzzles of the Uzis poke him hard in the back through his denim jacket. Knowing they wouldn’t use the weapons, he broke from the guards and ran past Verone, after the first two henchmen. He was reminded how much it hurt his developing breasts to run without a bra.

He ran into a set of lacquered wooden elevator doors sliding shut and deliberately slammed his shoulder into them, in attempt to stop them. “Uaaahh!” he complained.

“What’s your hurry?” Verone asked, strolling up behind him. “Are you that eager to see Monica?”

Turning back to Verone, Brian frowned. “What are they gonna do to Rome?”

“He’ll be given a nice place to stay for the night, like I said.”

“Fuentes is here?”

“She’s my woman; of course she’s here. You think I’d go on a cruise without her?”

The past several months Brian had feared she’d been a victim of Verone’s ruthless sense of fair play. He was actually relieved to hear she was still alive. “Where is she?”

“Ah. So you do care about her.” Puffing on his cigar again, Verone motioned for Alonzo and Sabino to escort O'Conner again, wielding their Uzis.

“I give a damn that she’s still alive, yeah. I thought you’d killed her by now, you sick fuck.”

“I like that you think that.” Verone smiled. He summoned the elevator back. “Let’s go up and see her, shall we? And you can express all your love and concern for her.”

In the forward of the yacht, in another luxurious corridor on the upper deck, Verone led the way to a set of double doors. He casually opened them into a vestibule. Then further led the way beneath recessed lights in the overhead into the master cabin.

On a massive built-in bed, Fuentes was seated, leaning against the headboard. The most startling thing about the sight of her was her attire of red sheer and lace teddies, covered only with a matching peignoir. Around her wrists and ankles she wore black, studded cuffs, fixed with gleaming chrome chains. Now Brian was twice as perplexed. Monica had been missing since before he’d left Miami, taken he knew, by Verone’s henchmen. That was months ago. How had she not gotten away in all that time, being a trained Customs officer?

“O'Conner!” She started on sight of him, and tried to hide her breasts by folding her arms and her lap by drawing up a leg. “Carter!” She glared at Verone.

Still grinning, he went to her. “Now, don’t you start. I brought your lover here, just like you wanted.”

Mouth working, her gaze darted back and forth between Verone and Brian. “You’re crazy! I told you a million times there was nothing between us!”

“You needn’t deny it anymore,” Verone told her. “I don’t blame you for choosing him, in particular. He’s really quite good-looking. Even more so than I remembered--especially with makeup. But, you never let on to me that he was herm.”

She looked even more startled. “I-I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know. I had no idea.” Past Verone, she looked to Brian, appearing completely bewildered and shook her head.

Of course Brian knew what she meant; she had no idea and no reason to. He tried to assess her wounds and appearance to figure out how maltreated she’d been over the past few months. He didn’t see any signs, other than that her hair had grown a little longer and her darker roots were visible. Despite the lack of evidence, as Verone was focused on Monica, Brian tried to convey her some palliative reassurance that he’d help her.

“Now, Monica,” Verone reproached. “No need to pretend. You know, I can honestly say,” he turned to Brian to scrutinize him a little closer, “if you were going to be unfaithful to me, you couldn’t have picked lovelier contender. I have to admit, I like your style.” Then to Brian, he said, “Let’s go ahead and get you ready for bed. Are you going to cooperate or shall I have the boys undress you?”

“What?” Brian was so shocked he jumped. “Ready for bed? Undress me? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Oh, I see,” Verone remarked. “It’s going to be like that. Now, I’d think you’d be a little more grateful to be back with Monica. You said yourself, she’s beautiful. Why would you want to be away from her another minute?”

“I’ve never been to bed with her in my life,” Brian maintained. “I’m not gonna do it now, no matter what.”

With that, Verone went to a built-in dresser across from the bed. There was a shut attaché case on it that he worked on unlocking. A slight gasp from Fuentes got Brian’s attention. He saw her eyes open a little wider as she cast him a warning look.

“Look, Verone,” Brian tried. “Why don’t we talk about this a minute? I get that you think I slept with Monica, but what can I do to prove to you that it never happened? I’m willing to take a lie detector test or whatever you want.”

“You want to know what you can do? Just cooperate.” Verone put his cigar in an ashtray and snapped open the case. 

Fuentes continued to look anxious. 

“What is it you want me to do, exactly?” Brian asked.

“Do you plan to cooperate?”

“And do what?”

Turning back, Verone revealed that he was holding a vial and a syringe, which he started filling. He gave no further explanation, but once he’d finished filling the syringe, he snapped his fingers at his accomplices. “Pull his jacket down.”

The moment they tried to pull the denim from his shoulders, Brian resisted.

“Ah-ah,” Verone instantly chided, waving a finger. “I thought you said you were willing to prove to me that you never slept with Monica.”

“And let you shoot me up with something? Fuck no!” 

Verone snapped his fingers again and the two guards tucked their weapons under their arms and struggled harder to pull the jacket down.

“All right, all right!” Brian relented. “I’ll do whatever you want; just don’t give me no drugs. Take these cuffs off me and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Is that so?” Seeming not to believe him, Verone left the vial on the dresser, then approached, still holding the syringe. He watched Brian a moment, then motioned at Sabino.

On feeling the cuffs give, Brian relaxed slightly and checked back over his shoulder, watching the big dude. Brian remained still and cooperative while the cuffs were removed and his jacket drawn down his arms at Verone’s bidding.

As soon as the jacket was off, though, Brian knew his state would be apparent. Sure enough, Verone’s expression changed to one of even deeper fascination once the jacket was gone. Still holding the syringe, his eyes raked Brian’s body anew.

“Why, look at this,” Verone remarked. “I thought you’d just put on a little weight…” When he tugged at the surplice neckline of Brian’s shirt, he had to allow it to convey his compliance. Presumptuously, Verone drew the viscose fabric back enough to see a little cleavage and the rise of one breast. “Ah, but you’re expecting…”

Fuentes fairly choked.

Eyes sparkling, Verone attempted to pull the fabric open enough to uncover more skin. Both guards stepped closer to gawp, as well. 

Abruptly, Brian seized the Uzi in Sabino’s hold using both hands. His hopes of getting it free and clear turned into a wrestling match, as Sabino’s arms were a lot bigger than Brian’s. Still, O'Conner fought, twisting the gun in the larger man’s grasp, having better leverage.

“Es el coño, ese!” Alonzo spit, bringing up his Uzi with a resounding click of the safety.

“Para te! Para te!” Verone ordered. Just then, Brian felt a sharp jab in his right shoulder and the fluid in the syringe force its way in. He released the Uzi in surprise. “Shit!” he cried. “You piece of shit, Verone! I’m fucking pregnant!” Much as he wanted to turn on Verone and break his face, he daren’t move with the needle in his shoulder.

“Carter!” From the bed, stutters and gasps of disbelief and protest issued from Monica.

“Don’t worry,” Verone said soothingly. “It won’t hurt him. It’s just a mild sedative, perfectly safe for a mother-to-be.”

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Brian raged. “You’re just a goddamn, low-life, piece of shit who doesn’t give a--”

“Actually, I have a degree in chemistry,” Verone smirked anew. “I know quite a bit about pharmaceuticals. Such knowledge is very useful in my career.” He plucked out the needle.

“I swear to god,” Brian panted, turning back on his attacker, “if anything happens to my baby, I’ll kill you! I’ll fuckin’ rip you apart into little pieces with my bare hands!” He seized Verone around the throat.

Instantly, the henchmen threw aside their weapons on their straps and grabbed Brian. Sabino seemed to enjoy exercising his strength in wrenching Brian’s arms behind him.

As soon as he was free, Verone waved at them and Brian was hauled to a club chair by the bed. By the time they pushed him into the seat, he was already starting to get dizzy.

“Carter!” Monica yelled from the bed. “Carter, leave him alone! He said he’s pregnant, for god’s sake! This is insane!”

“Get his clothes off,” Verone further ordered, ignoring her.

Despite the effects of the drug, Brian lashed out, striking anyone who tried. He must have caught Alonzo hard, because he staggered back. Sabino tried to pull Brian’s shirt up off of him, heavily groping at his chest, but Brian knocked his hands away. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me!”

“That’s enough,” Verone intervened. “You boys can’t handle him. Just hold him down until the sedative takes effect.” He glanced back at Fuentes on the bed. “Soon,” he told her. “You’ll get to be with your boyfriend again soon…”

~~~

It was getting late, and Dom was tired. 

They’d locked up the stolen barrels of petrol in the shed in the backyard of Leo and Santo’s rented house. It was an unkempt place with crumbling stucco and a roof in need of repair, but it was a house. Much better than living in the backseat of the Chevelle or in a grimy garage. They’d been inviting Toretto to come and stay at their place for a couple of weeks, but he hadn’t wanted to impose. They’d furtively jacked a tanker of several barrels of petrol a little earlier that evening, loaded them into the back of a stake truck Santos had borrowed, then snuck off in the night. It had been a pretty good haul for their means. Then they’d gone into the house and drank a few celebratory beers in the yellowed little kitchen.

Getting up, Dom left the two carrying on at the table, finishing their beers. They were amusing to listen to, but he really needed to get some sleep.

In the living room, he sunk down onto the sagging, worn, prickly fabric sofa with what was left of his Corona. Though Leo and Santos didn’t really drink it, they’d bought a twelve-pack especially for Toretto. They’d already invited him to sleep on the sofa overnight, so he considered that a few moments, blinking at the dark TV screen.

While he decided, he picked through the assortment of junk punctuated with a few car parts on the coffee table until he found the remote control. Not since he’d last been to their house had he enjoyed the privilege of watching TV. Not that there was much of it to watch in Mexico that was worthwhile.

He took another drink and leaned into the backrest, still holding the RC. The couch was lumpy, the upholstery itchy against the bare skin of his shoulders, but with a sheet, it would probably be passable, weary as he was. Certainly better than the paper-thin mattress cots or spring-pierced sofas in the garages he’d bedded down at.

After a commercial, the news came on. The image that came on the screen made Dom drop his bottle on his lap. It was the same photo they’d run a few months back when they’d announced that “former police officer,” Brian O'Conner was a fugitive.

What the fuck?

As Toretto listened, a story unraveled. This same former police officer had been found and then exonerated of any wrong-doing in July. How that could have come about was a mystery to Toretto, being as he knew exactly what O'Conner had done. While he’d committed no crime as far as Toretto was concerned, he knew damn well the authorities would have a different opinion on the matter. It was now September and he’d just been reported abducted. Abducted, no less, from the front yard of the same wanted felon, Dominic Toretto, that Brian O'Conner had allowed to escape. 

Though Dom had given his employers all aliases, he’d told Leo and Santos his real name after coming to trust them. On hearing Toretto’s name being splashed all over the news, Leo and Santos ceased their squabbling and crowded into the living room, jostling each other for a look at the TV. 

Particularly impressed when they saw a photo of him on the screen, they both found a place to perch in the room, fascinated by the story.

“Ai cabron,” Santos enthused, clearly awed.

Dom couldn’t fathom any of it. Someone had kidnapped O'Conner? Some goddamn piece of shit scumbag would dare touch O'Conner, let alone kidnap him? Who the hell was this scumbag and what the fuck did he think he was doing, because Toretto was going to kill whoever that fuck was. Not that he should have any reason to want to, but just hearing that anyone would dare hurt O'Conner instantly enraged Dom. And second, just what in hell was O'Conner doing at Dom’s house, anyway? Why would he be there? Was it possible he was trying to find Toretto and was looking for leads? No, that was too far-fetched. He’d given Dom his freedom and that was the end of it. He wouldn’t be looking for Dom. So what was he doing there?

Additionally, in a related story, three FBI agents who had been staking out the Toretto residence had been found slain at the time that the abduction had occurred. This suggested that the perpetrators who had taken O'Conner had executed the FBI agents to keep from being tracked.

Stunned, Dom set what was left of his beer on the coffee table. The news had progressed onto the next story, but no one was listening. Santos and Leo were asking Dom all about it. They remembered hearing about the initial story back those several months ago, but not knowing Dom then, they hadn’t paid that much attention to it. Something about a policeman who had deliberately aided and abetted a suspect known to be wanted for grand theft across the border. Then the same policeman being sought by the police along with the suspect, Dominic Toretto. They’d not exactly recognized Dom right off, since they’d not really followed the story.

“Do you think,” Leo questioned in Spanish, “it’s a trick and the police are trying to flush you out?”

Dom was immediately taken aback. Why would Leo ask that?

“Yeah, man,” Santos seconded. “Do they think you and this cop are still in contact with each other?”

“I haven’t seen him in months,” Dom replied, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. “Not since I left the States. Why should they think that?” He couldn’t remember having said anything that would give them that idea. He’d never said a thing about O'Conner to them that he could recall, as painful as it had been not to talk about him every single day.

“It’s possible,” Leo said. Then asked the inevitable question. “What was he doing at your house?”

Passing a hand over his forehead, Dom leaned his other elbow on his knee. “That’s what I can't figure out. What the hell he was doing at my house…?”

“Maybe he was trying to get a hold of you,” Santos posed. “Maybe he went to ask your sister where you are.”

“But, see how,” Leo wanted to know, “would the kidnappers know he was there? What if they were after you? Maybe they thought the cop knew and would tell them.”

For a fact Dom knew that the cop didn’t know shit about where he was. However, he could have gone there on account of Mia all right. He might be seeing Mia now that Dom was nowhere around to interfere. He’d confessed to having been interested in her. No, that was a long time back. He never acted that way again, once he and Dom had established a relationship. If anything, O'Conner seemed to have forgotten that Mia even existed in that context. It was Mia who remained infatuated with O'Conner. Which was quite understandable. And it didn’t even matter who they were after--all that mattered was that O'Conner was in trouble and though Dom should have just shrugged it off, he couldn’t. They’d been deeply intimate, how ever briefly. There was no way Dom could shrug that off.

“I don’t give a shit who they’re after,” he growled, then got up. “I’ve got to get to California.”

~~~

September 14--Thursday

Fuzzy and light-headed, Brian woke.

As he blinked at an unfamiliar, low ceiling with a tray and recessed, soft lighting he realized he had no idea where he was. He thought he’d heard voices in his sleep, but could neither place them or recall what was said. And outside, he swore he could hear surf, and creaking wood, but that couldn’t be. While he was trying to process that, he tried to slide up on an elbow, but found he couldn’t move either of his arms.

Suddenly, Verone appeared at the foot of the bed Brian found he was lying on. His host was still wearing that moiré dressing gown that was tied shut and a smug expression.

Starting in horror, Brian checked himself to discover that his arms were bound over his head, wrists secured in place with studded cuffs like the ones Monica had been wearing. A sheet lay over his chest and the rest of his body, but he couldn’t move his legs, either. They felt as bound as his arms. 

Shit.

Just then, Fuentes stepped up to the bed beside Verone and observed, “He’s waking up.”

On looking to her, Brian saw that she was no longer in the sexy, sheer boudoir attire, but was now in a red satin dressing gown. Most notable was that she was free, yet still present. Of course, if any of Verone’s henchmen were standing by…On scanning the cabin, Brian didn’t see anyone else but them.

Verone looked very pleased. “And I thought the Customs Agents were beautiful…What do you think, Monica? Don’t you think the cops are beautiful, too?”

“Mm-hmm,” she answered, her eyes sweeping Brian.

As well as he could in his drugged haze, Brian sought her expression. Only a slight trace of anxiety played about her mouth and brow. “Monica,” Brian managed. “Monica, what are you doing?” 

“Answer him,” Verone prompted.

“What do you think I’m doing?” she asked. “I’m having fun.” She picked up the edge of the sheet and peeked underneath. “I had no idea you were so well-built…And all over…” She drew the sheet back even more over his lap. “Very nice piece, O'Conner…”

Instinctively, he tried to raise a knee to hide himself, but couldn’t.

Allowing the sheet to flutter back over him, she sat down beside him on the bed and leaned close. “You weren’t very nice to me back in Miami, as I recall.”

Stunned and bewildered at her one-eighty, he could only blink at her. “What? How can you say that? You-you obviously still had a thing for Verone.”

Verone interceded, his voice a little too obsequious to believe him. “Why that’s so sweet, dear.” He took her hand. “Is that how you felt?”

She frowned at him, suggesting otherwise, and further unnerving Brian.

“You wanted him so bad,” Verone prodded her. “Go ahead and continue. Maybe now he can get it up.”

Once again Brian’s mouth opened, this time in revulsion. Continue? What the hell? He looked to Fuentes; her annoyance had only intensified. Had they done more than just undress him?

“Well, Monica?” Verone questioned. Then he addressed Brian. “And how about you? You can’t tell me you don’t want to make love to her.”

The only thing he wanted was to get the hell away from both of them. And scrub in a seriously long Silkwood shower. He pulled on the chains attached to the wrist cuffs. “Right. So you can put a bullet in my head?”

“Not at all,” Verone’s unctuous tone was actually fading to something more credible. “I’ve changed my mind. It would be too much of a waste to lose someone as pretty as you. And you’ve proven your worth.”

Brian was afraid to ask. “Proven my worth for what?”

“As an employee.” Again, that smug smile. “You’re extremely resourceful, highly intelligent and clever, and tenacious. I like that in my employees. When I give them a job, I expect them to stay with it until they get it done. I don’t like excuses and I have the feeling you don’t believe in them, either.”

If all of that was supposed to be some kind of a compliment, along with the remarks about his looks, Brian was far from impressed. And not remotely consoled after learning what they may have done to him while he’d been unconscious.

When Brian said nothing, trying to figure out how to respond in his still-drugged stupor, Verone went on. “I pay very well. You can ask the others. You, of course, would get a lot of fringe benefits.” He took a seat on the bed, as well, on Brian’s left and traced a finger over his cheekbone again. Brian flinched hard, not from pain, but disgust. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that puta for bruising that face.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” Brian muttered.

“Ah, but it’s my intention to do you favors, now that I’ve got you.”

“I thought you were pissed at us.”

“If you cooperate, all can be forgiven.”

“What the hell was the crap you gave me and what did you do to me while I was out?”

“Don’t worry so much--” Verone began, then Fuentes cut him off.

“I just looked, is all,” she said. “Don’t get so upset, O'Conner. There’s no harm in looking, is there?” She teased at lifting the sheet again.

He jerked from her. “I’m not your goddamn play toy!” he snapped.

Verone was quick to reprimand. “You’d better lose that goddamn attitude of yours,” he warned, “if you want to live long enough to have that kid.”

“Come on, Brian,” Fuentes cooed, lying down partially atop him. “You don’t want to piss off Carter. You want to cooperate, don’t you? You won't get hurt if you promise to cooperate. If you keep me happy, then Carter will be happy. Get it?”

Even though Brian would have loved to knock her across the room right then, he tried to collect his anger. “All right, I’ll be reasonable if you’re reasonable.”

“That sounds good to me,” she said. 

“How ‘bout taking these cuffs off me to start?” Brian urged. “That would be reasonable.”

Beginning to sound irritable again, Verone remarked, “I liked you better when you were asleep. You don’t sound very cooperative.”

Although it had a pleasant scent, the perfume Fuentes was wearing was becoming a little too strong for Brian and considering his prior experience at the department store, he knew it could make him ill. “Either get off me or go wash that perfume off,” Brian said, glad for the excuse to get her off of his chest. He didn’t appreciate her touching him at all. He’d not even felt the baby at all once since he’d woken up and that wasn’t helping his disposition.

“What?” she sounded disbelieving. “You don’t like my perfume? Why, it’s Poivre.”

“I don’t care,” he said dismissively, though he had an idea of how highly prized the stuff was. “I can't stand the smell of perfume anymore.”

“Any more?” She suddenly sounded confrontational. “Or is it perhaps me--?”

“Since I’ve been pregnant I can't stand it.”

“Oh.” She looked apologetic and unwillingly sat up. “Well, perhaps I should go wash it off…” She stood up, looked to Verone, then made to leave.

But he caught her hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Monica. With the medication I gave him, he shouldn’t get sick.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Brian tried to argue.

“Well, I would,” Verone assured them. “I happen to know that the medication I gave you incidentally happens to work well at preventing nausea. So you should be fine.” As he regarded Brian, Verone drew the sheet down to Brian’s waist. “Nice tits,” he remarked, then lowered his head and began to mouth.

“Hey!” Brian protested immediately, struggling hard to pull away. “Get the fuck off me! You can’t do that! I thought we were being reasonable!”

“You haven’t done a reasonable thing yet,” Verone pointed out, not raising his head.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Brian warned, wrenching on the cuffs in his effort.

Ignoring him, Verone just held Brian’s rib cage tighter as he continued to suck and tease his nipples.

Instead of helping, Fuentes got back in place where she was and joined her boyfriend.

Immediately, Brian yanked harder on the cuffs. He felt the leather straps give slightly. God, he had a crazy wish that Dom were there right then, cause he could sure bust through cuffs like the ones he had on in a second. Even Rome could do it. Maybe not as quick as Dom, but Rome’s arms were pretty buff. In desperation, Brian yanked harder. The cuffs on his ankles weren’t giving at all. If he could get his legs free, he had a better chance of fighting.

“’Look, you pervs,” Brian objected, “I’m really not enjoying this.”

“You know,” Verone murmured, “you’re complaining a lot for someone who’s agreed to be ‘reasonable’.”

“It’s not like you’re being reasonable, either,” Brian pointed out.

“That’s it.” Verone backed off the bed. “I’m going to have to adjust his attitude for him. Get me another injection ready, Monica.”

As she moved to obey him, Brian shot into panic mode. “No, wait! Don’t give me any more drugs. You said a ‘mild sedative,’ but that was no goddamn mild anything. That shit worked fast and it knocked me the fuck out. So, I don’t trust that it’s anything you say it is.”

“You noticed that,” Verone said, that smug look creeping back in his expression. “Well, then I suggest you don’t make me use it again.”

“All right, all right,” Brian feigned. “I’ll be more cooperative, I swear.”

“I can always gag you,” Verone said.

Trying to repress his panic, Brian looked to Fuentes then back to Verone, then back to Fuentes again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Exactly what you wanted to do to Monica,” Verone answered.

Another denial almost snapped out, but Brian thought better. “Okay, undo me. I can’t do her like this.”

“Sure you can.” Verone steered Fuentes back to the bed and took the sheet fully aside. “Until you prove your compliance, she can do the honors.”

It was an insane proposition, under the circumstances. Especially with the way Monica was ogling his lap in delight, and then Verone’s eyes roved too intensely. “I can't perform like this,” Brian finally had to admit, being as they didn’t seem to think it was obvious enough.

Without a word, Fuentes hungrily went down on him. Apparently thinking that would work, she began kissing and probing his cock with her tongue as fervently as she’d done his tits. Maybe even more so. That made Brian even more uncomfortable and nothing more. When she eased him into her mouth, he jumped in alarm, but certainly took no pleasure in it. She felt like she knew what she was doing, too, though she was wasting her skill on him. It was essentially rape to him. That sentiment intensified when she started handling his balls, and sliding a finger along the cleft between his legs.

He couldn’t keep his mouth shut any more. “Monica!” he protested in mounting desperation.

“Ah-ah,” Verone warned, raising a finger at Brian. If anything, he looked pleased as he watched. 

Holding his testicles up out of the way, Fuentes ducked her chin down and licked at his vulva where she’d been stroking.

“Fuck!” Brian cried that time. “Knock that the fuck off!”

“You’re not enjoying that?” Verone questioned. 

“No!” Brian squirmed. “Not at all!”

“Really.” Verone’s tone was dry. “I think Monica’s quite good at giving head. And she just keeps getting better.”

Her ministrations refocused on Brian’s cock, determined to demonstrate.

“You’ve gotta want it first,” he contended, “and I really don’t.”

Offering no sympathy, Verone continued to watch until he joined Fuentes back on the bed and set about assisting her. He licked and mouthed what he could reach along with his partner. He was no less industrious with Brian’s testes, either. 

“Oh, shit!” Brian exclaimed. “I can't do it, all right? There isn’t a damn thing either of you can do that’s going to make me hard, so just forget it.”

It took a while, but at least that got Verone to raise his head to look up Brian. “My, you are so pretty.”

Evidently the pervert was a voyeur and wanted to watch his woman have sex. If he’d ever really been pissed at the thought of Fuentes with someone else, he was over it now.

“Nice legs, too,” Verone went on, sliding a hand over Brian’s thigh. “I like that you shave. Very nice touch.”

Brian cringed.

That hand made its way to his inner thigh and he felt strong fingers stroking his vulva. It was bad enough when Fuentes had done it, but this was worse. Furthermore, she was still at her mouthing and pulling, sucking him deep in her mouth, creeping him out.

“Let-let me go,” Brian insisted. “Maybe I can enjoy it if I’m not tied down, you know?”

“It’s not imperative that you enjoy all of it.” With that statement, Verone untied the belt of his dressing gown to unveil a full erection. “Monica and I are enjoying it more than enough, even if you aren’t,” he added. Then pressing Fuentes to the side, he climbed over Brian to mount.

“No, don’t!” Brian cried again. “For god’s sake, I’m pregnant, man! How can you--?”

“Monica!” Verone directed. “Go get another shot ready and shut him up.”

She scrambled up to do as requested. “I don’t know how much,” she fumbled. “Or which medication to use.”

The panic was in full force. Brian felt the baby stirring then from the adrenalin. “No, Monica, don’t do it! Don’t fucking do this to me, man! Please!”

Impatiently, Verone got off the bed, too, and went to expedite her.

In their brief absence, Brian yanked harder on the chains. “Fuck, when I get loose, I’m going to kill the both of you, I swear, if you do this!” Just then he felt the cuff on his wrist break loose. “Shit!” Wildly, he pulled at the other cuff with his free hand.

On seeing his progress, Verone rushed back. He tried to catch Brian’s right hand, but not without getting a fight. Before he could strike another blow, Verone managed to put his knee on Brian’s hand, pinning it to the mattress. “Condenado!” he cursed. “The shot, Monica. Bring it here!”

~~~

Unable to relax, Rome had searched his cabin for some means of escape. As Verone had said, it was relatively comfortable with a bed, a built-in TV, a stereo, a bathroom, brand new, plastic-wrapped toiletries and all that stuff, a refrigerator, a closet with a complimentary Turkish style robe, all kinds of necessities as well as amenities. Nothing useful, though, except for the clock, maybe. So Rome could count down the minutes he’d been locked in there. The two ugly guards that had walked him there told him in very broken English that he was to stay there until “Señor Verone” said otherwise. Or so Rome gathered.

Naturally, he banged repeatedly on the door and complained loudly. He wanted to know where O'Conner was and wasn’t going to let anybody rest until he knew. After about an hour and-and-a-half of that, the sherm who knew Brian and had hit him with his gun came in with one of the ugly-looking dudes. She’d been wearing a pissed-off, sullen expression since Rome first laid eyes on her, and that hadn’t changed any. If anything, she looked like her mood had only worsened.

“They say you won’t shut the fuck up,” she remarked, sounding every bit as churlish as she appeared. She had a finger on the trigger of the Uzi she carried. “What the hell is your problem, cabron?”

If anyone had cause to be pissed, it was Pearce. “What the fuck you think?” he retorted. “Whe’s Bry?”

“I suppose he’s with Verone,” she said dismissively.

“Take me to him.”

“If Verone wanted to put you two together, he would have. Obviously, he doesn’t. So stop bothering everybody and fucking go to sleep, already. You’ll probably be told more in the morning.”

“I don’t give a shit about the mornin’; I wanna know whe’ my homey is now. Take me to him.” Rome started toward her.

She and the dude instantly aimed their guns at him.

“A’ight, a’ight.” Rome backed off. “I get it.”

When they started to leave, he stopped the sherm.

“Wait. I wanna know how you know O'Conna’.”

She seemed to draw herself up. “You wanna know how? Son-of-a-bitch stole my guy. Fuckin’ bichocha. That’s how. And now the piece of shit is knocked up by him. How do you think I feel about it?”

Highly surprised, Rome considered. He didn’t know exactly what “bichocha” meant, but he’d heard Spanish-speaking people use the word she’d just spit to insult herms. Her anger he could certainly relate to. He knew exactly how she felt. Goddamn Brian. Going back to dude’s house had been the worst mistake they could have made. How the hell did O'Conner manage to get into such situations? Further confused, Rome persisted. “What that got to do wit’ Verone?”

“Let’s just say I was working for some people who heard he was looking for O'Conner and I volunteered to help. I wanted to see the son-of-a-bitch get his.” She shouldered her strap, and left the room, locking the door behind her again.

~~~

On the bed beside their prisoner, Monica watched while the medication took over. She looked anxiously to Carter. It was taking longer than the first time for some reason, but O'Conner’s agitation was finally waning as the drug took effect. When those exquisite eyelashes finally swept down, she expected he’d fallen asleep. “You probably shouldn’t keep giving him all these drugs and you know it. He’s going to have a baby.”

Carter had pulled one of the club chairs to the foot of the bed where he kicked back, bare feet up on the end of the bed, toying with a cigar and a cutter while he waited. “First of all, I don’t give a damn about his baby. And anyway, I only gave him one drug this time. I didn’t use the succinylcholine, and that’s the one that could possibly present a problem. But he only had one dose, so I wouldn’t worry about it so much if I were you. The one we gave him right now is perfectly safe. It takes longer to work, is all, but it’s the one that lasts, too.”

“You shouldn’t have given him the other one at all. You knew he was pregnant.”

“As I said, I don’t give a damn about that. If indeed I do hire him to work for me, I don’t need him to have a kid hanging off him.”

She eyed Carter with uncertainty. “If I’d known he was pregnant, I wouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“What do you mean?” Carter smiled. “It’s made him even more attractive. I notice you like his tits, too.”

Her gaze returned to O'Conner and the rise of the sheet over his chest. “Well, yes, they are very nice on him. But if you do hire him, he won't be able to do much work when he gets further along. Then, while he’s taking care of a young child.”

“Well,” Carter mused, “maybe you can help him out and learn something about mothering yourself. I expect you to give me children in time, you know. Heirs to my fortune. Maybe him, too, if I keep him around that long. He’ll provide some fine stock for me, with those looks and desirable personality traits.”

That Carter would be thinking about children came as a surprise to Monica. And even more to suggest such a thing with O'Conner. One thing about Carter, though; she couldn’t always tell when he was being honest or playing one of his head games. She liked the idea of having O'Conner around on a permanent basis. She couldn’t help but be immediately attracted to him when she first met him. That, however, sounded a little too extreme to her. Anyway, she couldn’t imagine how Carter could ever expect to get that kind of coadjuvancy from O'Conner. He’d never agree to it. At least, she didn’t think so. From what little she knew about him, he seemed a little too principled to ever go for a living arrangement like that.

Evidently, he wasn’t unconscious yet and had heard their conversation. “Like hell,” he mumbled. “You can’t keep me here against my will…”

“Oh, si?” Carter countered. “You really think not? Then why is it you’re still here?”

“I’ll get out of here,” Brian slurred in response. He tugged weakly on the new, stronger, heavier cuffs Carter had applied. “You’ve got to let me up…”

Rising, Carter went to the nightstand at his side of the bed and found his lighter. He threw the end of the cigar he’d trimmed off into the ashtray. “Just go to sleep, O'Conner. You’ll think differently in time.”

“Let me up…” O'Conner looked to Monica. “Let me up, please, Monica…”

“I don’t want to do that,” she told him, sliding down next to him on the bed again. She played with his curls, arranging them. “I like you too much just exactly where you are.”

After puffing on his cigar a moment, Carter came to them and leaned over Brian to assess his level of consciousness. 

His eyes were still shut and his breathing seemed deep and relaxed. Monica began to pull back the sheet. 

When Brian did nothing, Carter helped her and they both drew the sheet completely aside. It tickled her that Carter had told her that if she touched another man he’d kill both of them, yet here he was encouraging it. At his distinct bidding, she reached to O'Conner again and traced her hand over him. Through her peripheral vision, she saw Carter’s partial erection fill out more, not just attesting to his authorization, but his decided pleasure. 

Monica was more than willing to indulge Carter as well as herself. She proceeded with her mouth and lips again, over the sweet, subtle mounds of O'Conner’s breasts, teasing his nipples to stand erect. Untying her silk dressing gown, she pressed her own breasts to him as she sucked, murmuring in her enjoyment. 

For a few moments, she lost track of what Carter was doing, as engaged as she was. When he returned, he climbed over Brian, then reached to Monica and eased the gown from her shoulders. On looking to Carter, she saw him take the base of his full erection.

~~~  
Once again Brian woke. Wherever the hell he was, it was dark and once again, he heard surf and the creak of a boat with water lapping at its hull. He wasn’t sure about anything except that he ached in various places, centered mainly in his pelvis and abdomen. When he tried to sit up, he found he was restrained; this was further described by the jingle of chains and the sensation of rigid straps around his wrists and ankles.

Shit. 

Slowly, wearily, he began to remember where he was. Only not. He was in another cabin that was smaller. As he looked around and tried to orient himself, it seemed he was alone. At least he was covered with a blanket and was wearing something light-colored underneath it, even though it was unrecognizable. It had no sleeves, he could feel that much. He thought he could make out a TV across the room, but he wasn’t sure. He was having a hell of a time focusing. That had to be the effect of the drugs Verone had given him.

As Brian studied the windows, covered with Roman shades, he wondered what was causing the discomfort in his belly. It seemed to feel like cramps--like the aching of menstrual cramps, only not quite as deep and worse than what he was used to whenever he had them, which wasn’t often. But vaguely familiar. What the hell was that? It worried him. Considering that he felt sore from his genitals all the way down through his perineum, he hated to think just what Verone and Fuentes had done. Had their abuse and mistreatment induced contractions? It felt a little like that awful pain he’d had after the incident on the highway outside of Gonzales. And admittedly, that had felt something like when he’d miscarried.  
That horrible experience he’d fought to put out of his range of memory. And he’d mostly succeeded, except when he felt similar sensations. The fact that he’d also been highly drugged on painkillers for his badly broken arm at the time of the miscarriage had helped him to forget much of the agony and raw ugliness of the ordeal.

But the discomfort wasn’t quite like that. Unpleasant and uncomfortable, yeah, aggravated by a sharp poking from within. That poking was the baby, he came to realize. The baby was restless and uncomfortable, too. Probably hungry, because one of the reasons Brian had woken up was from hunger. Once he knew he was pregnant, it made sense why he was so hungry so often. Since there was nothing he could do about that, there was no way to appease the baby by feeding him to calm him. Brian just hoped he wouldn’t get nauseated.

The last cuffs they’d put on him were leather and of moderate strength. He’d managed to break free of one of them. They’d been fixed in eye bolts sunk deep in the wood of the headboard and frame of the bed. That was probably what the set up was there in that cabin. As he pulled on the present cuffs, he felt them to be stiffer and stronger than the previous ones.

When he tried pulling himself up towards the head of the bed, he discovered there wasn’t enough slack on the cuffs on his ankles, just like it had been in the other cabin. As he fought against the new cuffs, it hurt the chaffing already present on his wrists from all the earlier fighting he’d done.

The effort told him something further. That his bladder was painfully full and the discomfort inside him was aggravated worse with movement. Not having had the chance to use a bathroom in hours, there was no wonder in that. He lay still for a few moments, shutting his eyes, wondering what to do. That didn’t stop the baby from kicking. Of course not; the baby was still being imposed on and if Verone’s repeated abusive activity had touched off uterine cramping, the baby had good reason to fret. Judging by how sore Brian was, it had to be repetitive. Maybe if Brian just let go and wet the blanket on top of him, that would at least give the baby one less reason to be in distress, plus it would alleviate one of his own.

After a while, he knew he couldn’t; he was too conditioned not to. The baby’s increasing angst was only mounting. By then, Brian’s vision had acclimated to the darkness in the cabin. He got another look around himself. He saw a closet, then a door standing ajar that appeared to lead into a bathroom. So fucking close, yet he couldn’t do a thing about it. There were two other doors. One had to lead to the corridor, and the other--where?

Fuck. One good tug nearly dislocated his shoulder. “Hey!” he called. Someone had to hear him. Someone had to be in the corridor or the next room. Maybe they’d put him next to Rome. “Hey! Help me up!” He waited, listening. Then tried again. 

“Hey, come on! Fuck! I’m in pain here!”

When he finally heard some rustling outside one of the doors after several more tries, he was able to breathe and relax minutely. The baby, however, didn’t.

Outside of the door, he heard a soft jingle of keys, and the lock turn. Indirect lighting and the sight of an immediate bulkhead in the doorway suggested it led to the corridor. All Brian could see was a silhouette. A silhouette of an X-type.

She quietly and shut the door down behind herself. A flashlight came on, the beam directed on him. Her voice was hushed and bitter. “What the hell do you want, O'Conner?” Letty rasped. 

Shit. She was the last person, next to Verone, that Brian wanted in the room. He thought a second. “Is there a medic onboard?”

“Why?” She stood over him and shone the beam on him, making it possible for him to make her out in the reflection off his light-colored gown and blanket. “What do you need with a medic?”

“How do I not need a medic?” he demanded. “I’m fucking chained to this bed, I’ve been brutalized by your boss, I’m over four months pregnant, I’ve got to take a wicked piss, and I think I’m having contractions.”

Almost appearing pleased, she said, “That’s even better. What do you mean ‘brutalized’?” She briefly looked him over. “I don’t see any marks.”

Did she think he was lying? “What do you think? Look, Letty,” he managed, struggling to keep from cussing her out, “you can't blame me for what happened. I didn’t-I didn’t talk Toretto into it. I didn’t trick him or force him to do anything. Things just happened, you know? You can't blame--”

“I don’t see anybody else pregnant with his kid, do you?”

“Damn it, that’s not fair! It’s not like we’re even together any more. And it’s not fair to the baby. You can’t be that cruel to Dom’s baby, for god’s sake. If you really care that much about him you should--”

“And you should shut the fuck up!” From out of nowhere, she produced a gun and rammed it under his jaw. It was his own SIG. “I hope you are having contractions. I hope that what Verone did to you causes you to lose that brat. It would be the best thing for me and for Dom. I don’t like the thought of you having his kid and he sure don’t need it. And you can go right ahead and piss yourself. Do you think I give a shit?”

“Fuck you, Letty!” Determined, Brian yanked harder on the ankle cuffs. “Just fuck you, bitch! When I get out of here, I’m gonna fucking kill you, too! I was gonna go easy on you because I understood where you were coming from, ‘cos you were hurt--!”

“I said shut up!” She hit him again with the butt of the gun, this time on the mouth. “You wanna wake the son-of-a-bitch up?”

If it would bring better results than dealing with Letty, he’d do it. When he got over the initial pain in his lower lip, he went on. “If it’ll get your ass in trouble, hell yeah, I’ll goddamn wake him up!” When he wrenched at the cuffs once more, he heard the wood groan.

With that, Letty reared back, caught the gun in both hands and cocked it. “That’s it, O'Conner, I said shut the fuck up!”  
Lip still smarting, he obeyed. He didn’t doubt she’d shoot him. Still, he kept fighting the cuffs, feeling the wood and leather giving ever so slightly.

There was noise at another door just as it burst open. “What the hell is going on?” Verone roared. He came in snapping on a lamp, pulling a bronze dressing gown over silk pajama pants.

That made Letty step back, though she kept her eyes and the gun trained on Brian. “I thought I heard some noise--” she began.

Without waiting for her to finish, Verone snatched the gun and backhanded her. “Who the hell gave you permission to shoot my prisoner?”

“I came in,” she tried to explain, “to see what he wanted.”

“A medic,” Brian supplied. “I need a medic.”

“Where’d you get this gun?” Verone’s gaze flitted over the SIG.

“It’s mine,” Brian said. “She stole it, along with the rest of my stuff.”

Verone looked to him. “What did she do?” Then back to Letty. “Did you hit him again?”

She stuttered.

Having his answer, Verone swung at her again, causing her to quickly duck to avoid another blow.

Not that Letty didn’t deserve it, but Brian was more worried about his baby. “Verone. Get me a medic. I think I may be having contractions.”

“Contractions?” Verone echoed, not sounding alarmed. “What on Earth makes you think that?” He was more preoccupied with Letty to give it much thought. “Listen,” he told her, “when I give you an order, I expect you to follow it. I told you not to lay a finger on the prisoners, and you deliberately disobey me.” Aiming the gun at her, he backed her to the door and forced her out into the corridor where he went on chastising her.

Stupid son-of-a-bitch. Brian regarded the door that still stood ajar that Verone had come through. “Monica!” he called. “Monica!” 

It only took a few moments for her to appear, drawing on a thin, colorful robe. Some of her makeup was gone, but not all. As she’d evidently been sleeping on it, her hair was something of a tousled mess. Appearing sleepy, but anxious, she came to the bed.

“Monica,” Brian said. “Let me up, please. I’ve got to pee really bad. And I think I may be having contractions.”

Thus far, she was the only one who was troubled by this prospect. “Oh, my god, Brian.” Climbing on the bed next to him, she struggled with his left cuff. 

As soon as it gave, Brian was able to cradle his baby with his hand. Then she released the other cuff, and he carefully sat up. “Undo my ankles and help me to the bathroom.”

She didn’t waste a second in doing as asked. Out in the corridor, they could hear Verone’s cussing and castigating growing fainter, then it became muted.

“What is wrong with her?” Fuentes asked rhetorically. “Doesn’t she have any sense? Carter doesn’t put up with attitude like hers.”

In fact, Brian knew the answer, but was far more concerned about his own state at the moment.

~~~

Leaving Ortiz locked in her cabin, Verone put guards on her door, as well. For talking back the way she did and ignoring his orders as if she considered the situation to be a democracy, he’d struck her a few more times, then restricted her to quarters until further notice. She’d shown a stubborn, insubordinate streak from when he’d first hired her, tempting him to fire her just as quickly. But she, of all the cartels’ employees, was the only one who had any ideas about where to find this elusive O'Conner who possessed all the instincts of an experienced cop. One more experienced than he should have, considering how young he was. 

On the way back, Verone considered what O'Conner had said about having contractions. He may be a smart cop, but what did he know about such things? He was overreacting. He had no children, according to Verone’s research. He wouldn’t even know what contractions felt like. He was just acting like a new mother and being paranoid because he’d been engaged in unwanted sex. And even if such a thing were to happen, it would be for the best. What did Verone want with someone else’s brat? He certainly didn’t care if it survived or not. Except that it would inconvenience him for a while O'Conner recuperated.

On returning to the cabin Verone was once again aggravated when he found the bed and shackles empty. The bathroom door was only slightly open, and Monica stood facing it, just outside. “Brian?” she was asking.

Mierda.

Wielding the silver Elite, Verone checked the clip again that he’d been come close to emptying into Ortiz, walked straight up, tossed Monica aside, and threw the bathroom door open. 

“Carter,” she said. 

Bent over the sink, O'Conner washed up, still wrapped in the thin, draping, sleeveless gown Verone had put him in. The boy started when the door was thrown open, his big, beautiful eyes widening in the reflection of the mirror. His gown clung to his admirable body. Also by way of the mirror, Verone had a glimpse down the front of the gown of those nice little breasts and the svelte muscles in that chest.

Beside the door, Verone seized Monica’s right biceps. “What did you do?” he demanded of her. “Why did you let him up?”  
Perturbed, she frowned at him. “Didn’t you hear him? He said he might be having contractions.”

“You’re a fool. He can’t be trusted. Not yet. I told you to be very careful with him. You know yourself he was a cop.”

“So?” she maintained. “So was I. He’s not going anywhere. He needs help.”

“He’ll be fine.” Verone released her, stepped up to O'Conner, and held the gun on him. “He doesn’t know anything about contractions, anyway, so he wouldn’t know. He’s just trying to get your sympathy so you’ll do something stupid like you just did. Get back in the cabin now,” Verone directed.

“Fuck you,” O'Conner muttered, straightening up. “Get me a medic.”

“There is no medic onboard,” Verone informed him. “We’d have to go back to the marina. So you may as well go back to bed until I determine whether you even need a medic or you’re just playing games.”

“Let you determine?” O'Conner eyed Verone sharply. “You were the dick who caused it.”

Exasperated, Verone exhaled. “Get back out to the bed before I shoot you and ensure you start having contractions.”

“Carter!” Monica snapped. She hurried into the bathroom where she wrapped an arm around their prisoner’s waist and gently walked him back to the cabin. It should have annoyed Verone worse, but didn’t--not any more. Now that he’d come to appreciate O'Conner. He had to admit that Monica had good taste. That couldn’t be disputed. And there was nothing wrong with her having compassion. He just knew she was playing too much into the bigender’s paranoia.

When he reached the bed, O'Conner complied and sat carefully down on the bed. “Can we go back to the marina, then, so I can see an actual doctor?”

“When I determine it,” Verone said, trying to control his patience. “Tell me what makes you so sure you need a doctor?”

O'Conner gave Verone another look. “Because it fucking doesn’t feel right. It feels like I’m having cramps and it damn well shouldn’t.”

“Indeed,” Verone remarked. “You do you know that there are numerous things that can cause that sensation. A good, hard fucking can do it,” he smiled.

“Yeah,” O'Conner pointed out heatedly, “especially when it causes premature labor.”

Once again, Verone smiled. “Lie back and I’ll check you.”

“You did enough goddamn checking up there already.”

“Suit yourself. Monica,” Verone gestured with the gun, “put the cuffs back on his ankles.”  
Though she hesitated, she knew better and picked up one of the cuffs.

“Wait,” O'Conner said. “You can’t chain me back up and leave me here by myself. I swear I’ll cooperate if you don’t chain me.”

“I’ve heard enough about your ‘cooperation,’” Verone said drily. “If you want to be trusted, you’ve got to earn it. Let me have a look; if you’re bleeding or having contractions, then I’ll do something about it, all right?”

“You aren’t no damn doctor. You can’t tell I’m having contractions just by looking.”

“I can tell if you’re bleeding. And I can feel.”

“We’ll all be able to tell soon enough if I start making a mess on the bed. I don’t want you feeling up me no more. If I’m not having contractions, that could sure start them.”

“I think that as a new mother-to-be,” Verone said, “you’re being overly emotional and sensitive about all this. Because I don’t trust you, I’m going to have to have Monica put the cuffs back on you, then we’ll stay here for a while and you’ll see that you’re just being paranoid.”

While Monica did as asked, O'Conner watched her, appearing resigned. Truly, the look of resignation on that pretty face, made all the more intense by that pouting, slightly swollen lower lip thanks to goddamn Ortiz might well move Monica, Verone realized. He moved to the side of the bed so they could both see the glinting muzzle. “Tell me,” he asked O'Conner again, “What is your real full name? I’ve got to call you something, and you don’t look like a ‘Brian.’”

The striking blue eyes, framed with their long, curling lashes, narrowed at Verone. “What the fuck are you talking about? My name is Brian.”

“I mean, your middle name. It can't possibly be ‘Earl,’ considering your gender.”

“Oh, that.”

“What’s your middle name, really?”

“Why don’t you ask Ortiz? She stole my driver’s license.”

“In that case, why don’t you just tell me? I’m going to find out anyway.”

O'Conner sighed. “Arielle.”

“Now, that’s a fitting name. I like it much better on you,” Verone admitted. 

Adjusting the second ankle cuff, Monica spoke up. “I do, too. It’s much more appropriate.”

“Now, the wrists,” Verone prompted her. When she’d refastened the cuffs, Verone allowed some of his guard to relax. “See how much more pleasant things can be when you cooperate, Arielle?”

“Why do I need to be chained up if I’m cooperating?” Though O'Conner appeared tired, he still possessed an unmistakable spark of formidable, unyielding anger in his eyes and tone that kept Verone from relaxing completely. 

Rising, Verone went to the prisoner and checked each of the cuffs himself to make sure they were securely in place. 

“Because you haven’t gained my trust yet.” Then he dropped at the foot of the bed to throw back the gown, baring the long, lean-muscled, thin legs and perform his own pelvic exam. Of course O'Conner protested in guttural disapproval, though he said nothing.

Despite Carter’s own physical fatigue, he was aroused, even if he probably couldn’t perform again so soon after multiple climaxes. As he felt beneath the appealingly soft, full, weighty testes, he found the vulva swollen from repeated, overzealous use. Not only of his own doing, but Monica’s, as well. When he inserted his fingers, again O'Conner protested, this time by gasping and jerking from the touch.

“You’ve got to let me check,” Verone chided. “Turn on the overhead light, Monica.”

She got up and did so.

Enjoying himself, Verone gathered the male genitals in hand and held them up out of the way for another look. O'Conner voiced abrupt discomfort. He could do nothing to interfere when Verone spread the delicate lips for a view, then reinserted his fingers. “Mm, you’re not bleeding.”

By the fact that O'Conner began to breathe again, Verone realized that the prisoner hadn’t been putting on a performance so to invoke sympathy. Which meant he must be actually suffering to some degree. Granted, that could be a result of the rough sexing.

Pushing his fingers deep inside, Verone felt for any signs of contractions. A speculum would give him a much better picture of what was going on, but as Brian had said, it could also induce contractions.

“Stop it,” O'Conner finally stated. “You keep that shit up and it’ll only make things worse.”

In the recessed lighting, Carter checked his fingers and found them to be slick with only clear secretions. “As I said, you’re not bleeding.”

“I’d like to keep it that way,” O'Conner said tersely.

“I told you, you’re being overly paranoid for no reason,” Verone assured him. 

“I’ve got a damn good reason.” O'Conner eyed Carter through his eyelashes. “I had a miscarriage before so I goddamn well know what it feels like.”

Stunned, Verone blinked. In researching Brian O'Conner, Carter had discovered nothing about this. Such information needed to be considered thoroughly.

Thoughtfully, he locked the safety back on the SIG, then pocketed it while he paced.

“Carter.” Monica’s voice was cautious. She came to him, her back to the bed and whispered. “This is a whole new situation. I had no idea.”

In a way, it was fortuitous news. After all, Verone had no use for pregnant employees. Though he’d not put up with many, he’d found them to be unreliable, difficult, and couldn’t be expected to handle the workload. Furthermore, Verone would be the one to have to finance this problem. Hiring a doctor or midwife, then dealing with the expense of this unwanted child, as in diapers, clothing, furnishings--all of those things. But this news meant that O'Conner was at good risk of having another miscarriage, thus eliminating this massive expense.

On the other hand, the kid had such a great genetic background, he really would make fine stock for Verone’s future progeny. Very fine. For his own children, Carter could see sparing no expense. He’d buy them more clothes and toys than they could ever use and send them to the best private schools. For the most part, he’d want Monica and Arielle, as their mothers, to raise them though, so child-sitters would be hired only occasionally and temporarily. And Carter could see them each giving him at least four children--perhaps more. After all, it was normal for Catholic families to have as many as ten children and certainly Carter could afford for them each to produce that many.

Thus, causing the termination of this pregnancy could well be a crucial mistake. His chances of carrying future pregnancies to full term would be greatly diminished. Therefore, this one should be successful to ensure that he’d be able to carry plenty more to full term, if Carter so chose. Unfortunately that meant their sex would have to be more gentle until he was well into his second trimester.

“Tell me something.” Carter returned to the bed to study his prisoner where he was unable to imagine holding off really fun sex for so long. “How did you come to miscarry?”

O'Conner was still being obstinate. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m not asking you as a means of passing time; I need to know.”

“And I’m not just trying to be a pain in the ass. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

In a moment, Verone saw O'Conner’s eyes fill. Evidently, it had been an event so traumatic and upsetting, it wasn’t just a lack of desire for discussion; he truly couldn’t talk about it. The father must have meant a great deal to him, and the incident must have been brought on either by a physiological malfunction or an accident. It was also important that Verone learn the exact cause, although he knew he’d not be able to do so in any hurry. “I see.” Then he motioned to Monica. “You go ahead and go back to bed. I’ll stay with Arielle and keep checking him to make sure he doesn’t go into labor.”

She looked dubious.

“It wouldn’t behoove me if he lost this one,” Carter told her impatiently. “First of all, I wouldn’t want to have to deal with the mess. And second, I doubt he’d be of much use to me for a good while, psychologically, if he went through another miscarriage.”

Sympathy worried her pretty face as she looked over their prisoner. Then she let herself out through the adjoining door back into their quarters.

After shutting the door behind her, then turning down the overhead lighting again, Verone started for the bathroom. On his way back to the bed, he stopped at the built-in, compact refrigerator for a drink.

“You hungry or thirsty perhaps?” he questioned.

There was no immediate answer; however, O'Conner didn’t hesitate too long. “Yes and no. I don’t want anything, but at the same time I’m starving and thirsty.”

From the refrigerator, Verone collected two one-third liter bottles of Ferrarelle water and a package of mini wrapped snack cheeses. Coming to the bed, even in the low light, the boy still looked so damn delicious, Verone was tempted for more sex. He cracked open one of the bottles. “How do you feel now? Do you still feel like you’re having contractions?”

“It doesn’t hurt as bad. But it still doesn’t feel right.”

“I’ll check you again in a few minutes.” Verone held the bottle so O'Conner could lift his head and drink. Such a cute mouth, too. He was thirsty, like he said, but he held back, trying not to drink too much. When he turned his head not to take any more, Verone helped himself to the other bottle for a long pull. He was very thirsty and even hungry from all the activity he’d engaged in.

Unwrapping the miniature cubes of cheese, Verone popped the first one in his mouth. The second one he offered to O'Conner. Once again, he hesitated, but then finally accepted being hand-fed. “It’s good, isn’t it?” Verone prompted.  
Brian said nothing. He ate it, though.

“How about some caviar or champagne to go with that?” Verone teased.

No answer was forthcoming, as expected. 

After a few more cubes of cheese and water, Verone lifted the gown again for another check. Oh, so tempting. If only he wasn’t so tired. He inserted his fingers into the tight, slick, warm canal again and toyed ever so slightly. O'Conner made another murmur of discomfort. When he could force himself to withdraw his exploring fingers, they were still clean and clear of any blood. “Be good and you’ll be all right,” Carter warned. He gave his prisoner one more drink of water, then settled down on the bed to go back to sleep.

~~~

It was a little after midnight when Toretto had left the house in Molino Viejo. Leo and Santos had been understandably confused, but Dom hadn’t elucidated. There wasn’t any explaining the irrational anger that overtook him, or his abrupt need to see O'Conner again. All he knew was it was so intense it had instantly sobered him. There was no way to account for what Dom himself didn’t understand. 

He’d brought in one of his bags from the trunk of the Chevelle and taken a fast shower. There was no time to shave. He dressed, his body still wet, and rushed back out to the Chevelle, telling Leo and Santos that he’d simply be back in a couple of days. That’s all he could tell them. When they asked him what to tell the jefe, he had no answer for that, either.  
Since relocating to Baja, Dom had acquired a new Mossberg shotgun, which he stored in the trunk of the Chevelle. It had been easy and cheap to get a hold of one in Baja. Before getting behind the wheel, he’d tucked it under the front seat, then headed to the border.

It was a several hour-long drive. According to Leo and Santos, it would take something like six hours, although it took them more than five minutes of arguing with each other to arrive at that determination. He couldn’t know, judging by his own experience, being as he’d stopped many times between Molino Viejo and LA and done a lot of other driving around Baja. But he didn’t tire during the trip. He had only one purpose and that purpose got him through the night.

He was so focused that he didn’t even realize how long the trip had taken until he reached Los Angeles. By then he finally noticed that he’d been traveling in the early rays of sunlight for nearly a couple of hours. It was the familiar LA skyline bathed in a golden eastern glow that brought him back to reality. He slipped his shades on and continued his journey straight to the old off-ramps he’d been traveling since he was a kid.

When he reached Echo Park, he dug out his most recently acquired cell phone from the pocket of his leather jacket and dialed at the next red light. The phone rang through to the answering machine, so he hung up and dialed again without saying a word. That time it was picked up promptly.

“Hello?” It was Jesse, fumbling with the phone, sounding sleepy, but pumped.

“Jesse. What the fuck’s going on?” Dom took the next right, partly meandering towards his house. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that it was still being surveilled, despite the recent events.

“Dom! Dom! Oh, my god!” Jesse choked.

“I heard on the news that O'Conner was kidnapped from the house. What’s that about?”

“It’s true!--No,” he said off the phone, “I’m talking to him!”

In the background, Dom heard Mia hissing.

“What?” Dom wanted to know. “Why? What was O'Conner doing at the house? What the hell would he be--?”

“He came to buy the garage, man! He was just about to buy it, when they came for him. They just took him away! It was fucked up, man.”

It took a lot of self-control, but Dom tried to at least sound calm. “Who did? Who took him? And why?”

“I don’t know why, man.” Jesse was starting to sound hysterical, which was fairly normal for him. “They just did. You’ve got to come back to California and do something. I wanted to, man, but Mia wouldn’t let me. She says they’d kill me, but I don’t care. I don’t care! Its Brian, man--!”

“Jes-se,” Mia said warningly in the background.

Ignoring her, Jesse went on. “He’s pregnant, man. He’s gonna have your baby! We’ve got to do something!”

For a moment, everything went gray. Dom pulled over to the nearest curb and leaned forward on the steering wheel to catch his breath. No. He hadn’t heard right. When his vision cleared, he held the cell phone to his ear again. “What? What are you talking about, Jesse?”

Through the cell, he could audit Jesse and Mia arguing back and forth. They both sounded agitated and ruffled, like they were bickering. Jesse’s voice was still easiest to perceive since he apparently still held the phone. “He needs to know!” was the last thing he said to Mia. Then to Dom, he said, “It’s true. Brian’s expecting. The minute I saw him, I knew it was yours. That’s how far along he is. He’s just starting to show. Skinny as he is, you can’t help but see it. I point-blank asked him and he said, yeah, it’s yours.”

Everything Toretto had considered, every thought that he had had since leaving Los Angeles, everything he’d done since last May was all senseless and pointless. He’d thought it was all about outrunning the law and embracing a chance at freedom. But in looking at his life from this new perspective, all he could do was ask himself how could he have done it? How could he have left his child and the mother of his baby? Abandoned them? Just gave them up like yesterday’s newspaper? Well, he’d had to, hadn’t he? No. He could have--should have--taken Brian with him. Deep inside it had hurt to leave for reasons Dom wouldn’t dare analyze. He’d been convinced that that chapter of his life had closed and it was for the best. It was time to start all over again.

How the fuck could he have done a thing like that? How could he have even thought that? If he’d known he’d left Brian with a baby, things would have been all different.

Though still in shock, there was only one thing that pervaded his thoughts then. “Did you or Mia see the kidnapping?”  
“Huh? Well, yeah,” Jesse confessed. “I was looking out the window. I saw the whole thing.”

“I’m here on--” feeling completely lost for a few seconds, Dom had to look wildly around the street to orient himself. “--Echo Park Avenue. I’ll be right there to get you.”

“Fuck!” Jesse cursed. “You’re here? Oh, fuck, Mia, he’s right here in town!”

“You’re crazy!” Mia could be heard faintly. “There’s no way!”

“Tell my sister,” Dom said, “that I’ll be right there.” He snapped his phone shut.

~~~

Only when he reached the house did Dom feel the tension that had coiled itself around his every muscle. Releasing the steering wheel and unfolding his stiff limbs was almost painful. He’d stopped as seldom as possible on the trip, and almost only to gas up. Jesse must have been listening for his arrival, because he rushed Dom the minute he reached the porch. He wore an oversized, thin flannel shirt over rumpled pants and his blond, untrimmed hair was a mess, suggesting he’d probably slept in his clothes. As soon as Dom reached him on the top step, he crushed Jesse in a hug. The poor guy appeared haggard since Dom had seen him last. “Jesse,” Dom said. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too, man,” Jesse said, quickly bundling Dom off of the porch and into the house.

Just inside the door, Mia waited, holding a coffee cup. She wore her summer robe tied over a pair of knit pants, her hair a mess, too, suggesting the same thing. They must have had a rough night, and considering the incident had occurred just the evening before, it was no wonder.

After sharing a hug with Dom, the front door shut, Mia finally spoke. “What are you doing here, Dom? This is crazy. You can’t just waltz back into the country whenever you feel like it.”

Without bothering to explain himself yet, he headed upstairs to use the bathroom. “Jesse,” he said. “Get ready to come with me; I’m gonna need you to me help find O'Conner.”

Mia wasn’t through yet. “Dom, don’t you realize they could be watching the house right now? This is way too dangerous for you.”

“I don’t care,” he tossed over his shoulder as he reached the second landing.

On his way back, on the second floor, he heard someone in the guest room. Ducking his head in, he saw Jesse unbuttoning his flannel shirt and kicking off a pair of high-top, black Converses, reminiscent of O'Conner’s.

“Lemme grab a shower,” Jesse looked up at the open door. “I’ll put on some clean clothes and be right down.”

Amused, Dom raised the corner of his mouth. From day one it had been apparent that Jesse had formed a sort of idolizing crush on O'Conner, and according to Mia, it hadn’t diminished. If anything, it was stronger than ever. It was pretty apparent in Dom’s telephone conversations with Jesse. “I’ll be waiting downstairs. Tell me everything you know, and we’ll figure this thing out.”

Downstairs, Mia was waiting for him. She followed Dom into the kitchen where he found coffee on the stove and looked for anything he could quickly avail himself of to eat.

“This is serious,” Mia was saying, sipping at her coffee. “I don’t know if they’ve been replaced yet, but apparently there were some federal agents in the apartment next door watching the house. It was only because they were found dead right after Brian and his friend were abducted that we found out for sure about them.”

Finding some pan dulce in the breadbox, Dom took out a chocolate concha to eat. “Dead?” Then he searched the cupboard for his coffee cup. It had been moved towards the back.

“They wouldn’t tell us anything,” she went on, “but Jesse and I think it was all tied together. Whoever took Brian must have known the house was being staked out and found the FBI agents and got rid of them first so they wouldn’t be followed.”  
Only then did Dom recall the mention of three FBI agents having been found dead also in Echo Park--one with his throat slit and the others shot to death. That gave him pause. Whoever the hell had taken O'Conner knew what the hell they were doing.

After pouring himself some coffee, he leaned against the counter. “What about this friend of O'Conner’s. Who was he? What can you tell me about him?”

“I only met him for the first time yesterday.” She lowered her lids. “It was the reason Brian came here at all.”

“Jesse said something about him buying the garage. Which I thought you’d taken off the market. O'Conner wasn’t really here about you, was he?” Toretto couldn’t keep from bristling in anticipation of the answer.

“Nothing like that,” she said flatly. “I was going to stop the ad, but he saw it while it was still running. Then he called me at the market and put in a bid to buy the garage.”

Despite that Dom had been dead-set against selling it, all of a sudden he liked the idea. “O'Conner wanted to buy our garage? But, how he afford to?”

“How should I know?” she argued. “He gave me eighty-thousand dollars as a down payment then came by yesterday with his friend to give me the rest. He said it was their money. Naturally I asked him where in hell he got that kind of money, but he wouldn’t tell me. It really wasn’t any of my business.”

“Wow,” Dom remarked. “I’m impressed. But, who was this friend? What kind of friend? A business partner friend? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said tersely and stepped to the stove. “Frankly, he was a good-looking, hot, black guy with a haircut like yours, if you must know. He got real pissed when he found out the garage belonged to you. Not because he knew who you were, but he referred to you as Brian’s ‘dude.’” She turned the burners on under the comal and the skillet. 

“Jesse and I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll make us some--”

“His ‘dude’?” Dom liked the reference. “You’re saying this guy got jealous?”

“Very. They got into a fight after that. Not in front of us--Brian has too many manners for that. He excused them, then they went outside to fight. Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” Dom admitted. “I haven’t eaten a thing. I just found out Brian’s been abducted and that I’m gonna be a dad; how do you expect me to be hungry?”

Exhaling, Mia went out to the utility room. “I guess I can see how you wouldn’t be. But, you know, you’ll be lucky if they don’t descend on you the minute you take one step out of here or if they don’t come knocking on the door before you even get that far. You shouldn’t have taken the chance on coming here. That was just insane.”

She was right. There was a damn good possibility of that. All Toretto knew was that somehow, without even thinking, he just switched into autopilot. As soon as he heard O'Conner was in trouble. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop himself. And he hadn’t even known he was pregnant.

“It’s just too damn risky,” Mia went on from the other room where he could hear her bustling about in the refrigerator.

“Do you have any ideas about who it was who took O'Conner?” he asked.

She hesitated. “You’d better talk to Jesse about that.”

“Why? Does Jesse know?”

“Just talk to him. He knows more than me. He saw the people who drove up to the house, not me.” She reappeared carrying a carton of eggs, a stick of butter, and a quart size plastic container. “I’m going to make breakfast for all of us anyway. You can’t very well do Brian any good on an empty stomach.”

That was something their mother would have said. And Mia’s way of lending encouragement, even though she felt it was against her better judgment, was much the way their mom would have acted had she been there, as well. “There’re some fresh tortillas we can have with breakfast.”

For a moment, he watched her unseeing, too smitten with the realization all over again that he was going to be a father. And a better candidate for a mother he couldn’t imagine. “Something had to be done. I was just sitting there last night, watching the news when out of nowhere…I heard he’d been abducted from my house. That was all I heard, and I knew--I knew I had to do something. I had to get back here.”

“But,” Mia pointed out, “you didn’t know he was pregnant…”

Dom shook his head. “It’s like Jesse’s been saying…What O'Conner did…I couldn’t forget all that…”

~~~

Breakfast consisted of Spanish rice and scrambled eggs with salsa wrapped in a handmade tortilla and coffee. Other than the addition of chorizo, nothing could have made a better breakfast. Not that Dom was hungry, but it did taste damn good, especially after having been away for over four months. Mia’s talent for cooking rivaled their mom’s. Jesse, too, seemed restless and impatient, but after having changed into some clean clothes, his hair damp, he wolfed down some food and coffee. As always, he was full of questions. Instead of answering, Dom did the grilling.

“Mia says you saw the people who took O'Conner; what can you tell me about them?”

“Oh, man. You’re not gonna believe it. It was Letty. She was one of them.”

“Letty?” Shocked, Toretto froze, coffee cup half-way to his mouth. “Ortiz?”

Jesse was already nodding. “Uh-huh.”

“What the hell was she doing? Who were the others?”

“I don’t know. A bunch of tough, Latino-looking guys in dark khakis. I never seen any of them before but Letty. They were driving brand-new Durangos.”

“Letty…” Dom set his cup down next to his plate. “What the hell was she doing…? Were they armed?”

“I couldn’t see what they were packing, but they musta had somethin’. Both Brian and his friend had their hands up and went with them without an argument. ‘Cept when Brian whistled. I knew he was making sure we looked out and saw what was going on.”

As well as Dom knew O'Conner, that sounded like him. He’d seemed like he had a lot of resolve and of course, that made all the more sense once Dom learned he was a cop. “Who the fuck were these people and why and where were they taking him?” Toretto puzzled. “Anything else you can tell me about these assholes?”

From the breast pocket of his clean flannel shirt, Jesse produced a black business card. He set it on the table between their plates on a paper napkin. “I found this by the curb where they’d stopped in front of the house.”

As Dom studied the motif, several thoughts went through his mind. Aside from the recognition of the symbology, he knew he’d seen that same air-brushed rendition of the design somewhere else before. He picked up the card and turned it over, looking for further explanation on the paperboard. “Couldn’t they see he was pregnant?” Dom asked, while he considered where he may have seen the image. “Was he showing enough? How could they bring themselves to…?”

Seated across the table with another fresh cup of coffee, Mia spoke up. “It wasn’t that apparent.”

“Well, I could tell,” Jesse maintained. “But, he was wearing a loose denim blazer. They might not have been able to tell--especially ‘cos it was getting dark.”

Suddenly Dom knew where he’d seen the image. He held the card up, scrutinizing it. “There’s this nightclub…one of those really exclusive places… called Unlimited…That’s where I’ve seen this…”

Jesse’s enthusiasm spiked another several notches. “You have? Where is this place?”

Dom looked to him. “Marina del Rey.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to hear from you. Please visit my writing blog at: http://exlibrisxscribe.tumblr.com/


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